


Fly, Die, Repeat

by LondonBai



Category: Edge of Tomorrow (2014), Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: Aliens, Cussing, F/M, Human AU, Military, Slow Burn, repeated death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-28
Updated: 2018-01-11
Packaged: 2018-07-27 09:08:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 37,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7612225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LondonBai/pseuds/LondonBai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aliens have landed on earth and seem to anticipate our every move. I, Marianne Fae, must do what I can to survive and save the world with the help of war hero, Bog King. The catch? I must die everyday and live it over again until we win.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

I remember the televisions' blaring static. I kept it on in hope that someone would get through it. When they did, fear ensued. Meteors, bright lights in the sky with an orange glow from the fire of entering our atmosphere, were falling out of the sky in Germany. Something crawled out and began attacking. I remember constantly checking the news for more info about the attacks in Europe. Checking them for five years. Five years of spreading death. Millions dead. These creatures advanced across countries. Nothing can stop them. They mimic and anticipate our actions. Government officials have made it out of Europe at least. Politics can still reign unaffected.

I remember the day Dawn left to help with the cause against the enemy. They needed a medic and someone with her doctorate in biology and physics. She was their gal. My only family left was now part of the war effort. Last I heard of her was when she was at Whitehall in London helping the general.

I remember seeing General Griselda King appear on the news. Her words haunted the world.

"If we do not defeat them in France... we'll be fighting them in London then New York, then Tokyo. All of humanity's at stake."

With no way to fight against these things and that uplifting speech, everyone felt doomed. How were we supposed to fight back? Then, it happened. It blew up all over the news.

"After five years we finally have a victory."

"These pictures are just in from Verdun."

"One of the striking things was how low casualties were and how little damage."

"We have a stunning victory today."

Someone managed to answer the question all of us have been asking. And this is where I came in. Countless interviews and appearances helped to not only spread the word about the success of Verdun, but the suit created to help it along and recruit more people to join the fight that now can be won. I remember my words on each of those interviews.

"This is an alien invasion in a global war. With the new jacket technology and limited training, we've been able to create super-soldiers. Look at Bog King, the Goblin of Verdun."

The Goblin of Verdun. The new hope for the war. He killed hundreds of mimics on his first day of combat. With him and the Exosuit tech, we can change the tide of war. I remember telling the television viewers to imagine an army of Bog Kings. His image, battle worn and rough, was everywhere. At first, they were wary of the war hero. Those hardened eyes stuck fear into most. That pointed face glaring at the camera didn't help. Then, the people warmed up to him because of the praise I gave while recruiting the world.

Still, people are concerned. They question whether being able to hold the aliens off will last or not. Concern soon leads to dangerous talk. Suspicions about this invasion arose. All the while, many nations joined together, creating the United Defense Force. A combined effort in hope to keep pushing back the aliens with the new tech no hopefully defeat them in the end. Unlike the general a few months ago, I gave hope with my words.

"Operation Downfall is going to be the largest mechanized invasion in history. We will be victorious. We fight. That's what we do."

I remember getting a summons from the general in London.


	2. Getting the Order

The entire aircraft hums and vibrates which lulled me to sleep hours ago. It wasn't until someone pulled open the helicopter's door when I awoke. Wordlessly, I gather my things, namely my officer's coat and hat, and hop out of the aircraft when it safely landed. Coming straight for me is someone with a task: to take me to the general.

Over the whirring of the helicopter's blades, I speak to the woman. "Major Marianne Fae, United States Military Media."

"Welcome to London, Major," she says as she begins to lead the way to the United Defense Force HQ at Whitehall.

Upon my arrival, I notice many people working busily around me as I wait for my meeting with the general. I wonder if Dawn is still here. We all have our jobs. I softly sigh. Mine is to show my pretty face on TV and increase the size of the UDF army. I lost my chance to become a better soldier before the war started. Before I could get too lost in thought, the general's secretary comes around the corner.

"The general will see you now."

I give a soft thanks and ruffle my short locks before placing my hat on again, quietly following the woman. More people buzz around figuring out the war effort at desks and passing reports around. I'm led into the general's office past all the hubbub. Never having seen the grim woman in person before, I never would have guessed how small she was. Introducing myself, I shake her hand. The firm line on her lips never fades as she walks around her desk to the collection of screens behind her.

"Operation Downfall," King begins. "The entire might of the UDF invading France, the Mediterranean, Scandinavia. Relieving pressure in the Eastern Front allowing Russians and Chinese to push the enemy back."

She points out all the places she mentions. As I listen, I can't help but notice all the red covering the expanse of Europe. The aliens, the Mimics. All that land they have taken. All those lost lives...

"We all meet in the middle, exterminating this Mimic scourge along the way. A lot of good soldiers are gonna die tomorrow, Major." Her voice more somber than earlier. "And when the smoke clears and the body bags start coming home, people tend to look for someone to blame, someone like me."

I can only stare between her short stature and the red on the screen as she pauses, running long fingers through unruly flaming hair. From the lines on her face, she used to be quite the smiler. The war has taken it's toll on each of us in some way.

"Ideally, I'd prefer a different scenario." She begins to walk away from the screens, a quick motion to a chair in front of her desk. "Please."

I move away from the red filled map as if it would harm me, thinking of ways to prevent the concerning blame off the general. Roland's unfortunate teachings about what the public likes speaking annoyingly in the back of my mind.

"A best-selling memoir, perhaps." I raise a questioning brow as I walk around the desk. "Maybe a career in politics?" I ask as I sit down, crossing my legs. When King says nothing, I continue with ideas. "Off the top of my head I would go with the sense of Manifest Destiny, rags to riches, rapid rise in the ranks, born to deliver us. And the people," I give a slight faux smile, "they love that sort of thing."

She quickly interrupts. "You misunderstand, Major. I didn't ask you to sell me, I want you to sell the invasion."

That's not what I was expecting, but I can work with that. "Okay."

"You ship out to the coast in one hour. Your camera crew is standing by. You'll be on the beach with the first wave," she states plainly.

Uh... Her words finally process through my head. I'm to go onto the beach? Not in the back ranks or film from afar, but right up close to the fight? I'm not experienced enough. I never got to have proper field time thanks to Roland. I hide my panic and make sure I heard the older woman clearly.

"I'm... sorry, the first wave at the beach, you mean the front?"

"France!" The woman's grating voice raises up then she turns in her chair to throw a thumb at the screen. "Satellites show minimal enemy movement on the coast. Little resistance. A little excitement. Something to tell your grandchildren." A brief moment of sadness befalls the older woman's face until her near black eyes shift back to me. "Might even get to film my son in battle."

"I appreciate the confidence, General. I- I do this," I place a hand on my chest in a small vain attempt to slow my heartbeat and to wordlessly mention my media persona, "to- to avoid doing that." I can't help but let out a nervous laugh. The woman keeps staring, though. "I was in ROTC in college. The war broke out and I left my place at my ex-fiancé's advertising firm. And here I am. Now, I do what I do and you... you do what you do, but I'm not a soldier, really."

I really wanted to be, however. Wanted to help. Unfortunately, I let Roland get to my head through my heart. He convinced me that I wasn't needed in the war, that his firm would be enough to help out, especially if I continued being simply the "co-face" of the company. I wanted to be a soldier, but love had gotten in the way and now I'm inexperienced. A liability. Useless.

The still woman stares at me a moment longer, those beady eyes looking me up and down. "No, of course you're not. That's why I'm embedding you with hundreds of thousands of men and women who are."

That bit me really hard, but still, I can't do that to those people. Having to deal with not just myself, but an entire crew who aren't experienced in battle isn't something those soldiers need. Their focus needs to stay to the cause.

"It's an honor, General, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to decline." Give her an excuse, maybe that'll work. "Can't stand the sight of blood." What a shitfaced lie. Dawn would be surprised. "Not so much as a paper cut."

A nervous laugh bubbles up from my racing heart as the woman continues to silently stare. She's not buying it. Maybe if I offer someone else to stand in my place. Roland would do nicely since he's actually had field experience from what he told me or even one of his triplet friends. "Uh, s-sitting here thinking about this, a few names come to mind that I feel like I could recommend to you. It's-"

"It's not an offer, Major," King states clearly. "It's an order."

Silence falls between us. Can she do that? She can't do that. That's right, she can't.

"General, I am an officer of the United States military. You don't even have the authority-"

"I have spoken to your CO." What is it with this woman and interrupting? "You are now under my command. You will retain your present rank of course. My secretary has all the details." She turns to some paperwork on her desk, leaving me speechless. "Do a good job, Major. Good luck. You are dismissed," she says without even looking at me.

I'm trying to process what just happened as I slowly raise out of my chair. Despite my chance to finally help, this operation doesn't need a rookie like myself with less than a day for training to hold others back. Excuses and offers didn't work to avoid this. That's when Roland's voice in my head pulls out a play that I never thought I'd use and I already feel sick to my stomach before I even turn to face the squat woman.

"General," I hesitate as she looks up from her work, annoyance written on her face. "I just inspired millions of people to join your army. And... when the body bags come home and they're looking for someone to blame... how hard do you think it would be for me to... convince people to blame you? I'd imagine the general would prefer to avoid that."

I can barely keep my eyes on the woman. She truly doesn't deserve this. I don't really mean to do this either. I keep reasoning with myself that it's for the better. That Roland's advice is sound.

The woman sets her pen down, those black eyes boring into my own. Suddenly, that move doesn't seem right anymore.

"Are you blackmailing me, Major?"

Now that it's said out loud, I feel utterly horrible. I need to justify why I said what I just did. "I would prefer not to be filming acts of heroism and valor on that beach tomorrow." Save that for those who can pull it off and deserve the following praise.

The woman stares up at me as she rises from her own chair and walks around her desk. Each step she takes is a stone dropping deep into my stomach. For such a small woman, I certainly feel intimidated as her hands settle behind her back.

"You won't be," she softly says.

Wait... That worked?

"I'm glad we could, uh," I can't help but whisper like there's something wrong with this picture, "work this out. Now, if you'll excuse me, General, I-," run right into a chair trying to make my graceful escape to the double doors. "Thank you," I whisper again to the woman who was following me.

As I pass the office's threshold and pull on my hat once more, the small general speaks.

"Arrest this woman."

I stare, wide eyed at the general as she turns away then at the soldier by the door. In a blink I begin to run, the sick feeling weighing me down and panic racing my heart. I push past someone with an arm full of files and papers, trying to remember the way out. Thankfully, my lithe body can nearly dance around people as I dodge away. It's almost a miracle that I can see the front doors. Then, my heart drops when someone turns the corner and pulls the trigger on the taser.

Darkness follows shortly thereafter.

}{

Did I have too much to drink? A splitting headache forces me awake, but the pain refuses to let me open my eyes. Something doesn't feel right, though. I'm not in my bed. Ugh, my head. I raise my hand to soothe the pounding, but the other follows. Fluttering my eyelids open and seeing not just my wrists in cuffs, but a base crawling with military life shocks my mind with memory of what truly happened to me.

My entire body screams at me as I manage to lift myself from the green duffle bags. Announcements in different languages echo around the base, orders from commanding officers cut through the din. Bus tires squeal, catching my attention. The image of Bog King in all his war glory sits on the painted vehicle, red words sit near his image. Full Metal Golem. I'm not sure if that's an insult or a compliment to the hero.

"On your feet, maggot!"

Someone kicks at the bags I'm laying on, interrupting my train of thought. I glare at the tall dark man and clamber to my feet unsteadily. What an ass!

"That is no way to address an officer, Sergeant," I hiss.

"It's how I address a slack jawed recruit right before I bust her hole with my boot heel, maggot," the man exclaims as he thrusts a uniform and shoes into my handcuffed hands.

"Hold up there, soldier," a high pitched voice calls from the side.

I turn to look, still dazed and slightly confused as to why I'm being treated this way. A sprite of a woman glides up before me with a smirk on her face.

"Can I help you, miss?"

I glance around the lively base, "Where the hell am I, Sergeant?"

"Forward Operating Base Heathrow. You just came in with the fresh recruits."

What the fresh hell? I face the woman with a raised brow. "Do I strike you as a fresh recruit?"

She studies me for a moment, "No, miss, you do not."

I don't like that ever present smirk on her face. I take a step forward, towering over her. "My name is Major Marianne Fae, I'm an American officer-,"

"Officer?" the woman nearly gasps before looking at the soldier who forcefully gave me clothes. "This is processing. There's no officers down here," she stares at the man until he walks away before turning back to me. "How the spell did you end up in processing?" She stands on her toes to get closer to me. "What was it? Poker night with some boys? Bachelorette party?"

I lean away from the prying woman during her questioning before I tower over her again. "If it's all the same to you, Sergeant, I'd like to explain that to my commanding officer in Washington, so if you just take me to a phone I can-"

"Haven't you heard?" What is it with interrupting people? "We're T-minus Haul-Ass-H-Hour, if you'll pardon my French, but we're fixin to invade France anyway." A giggle escapes her. "This whole FOB is on lockdown. No calls, in or out."

What is this situation I'm fucking in? I step back from the smiling woman and notice her name tag. "Your name is Plum," it wasn't a question, but she answers anyway.

"That's right. Master Sergeant Plum."

I repeat her rank and name then follow with, "You're an American."

"No, miss. I'm from Utah."

Pardon? If it wasn't for the never fading grin, I would of thought that as a joke, but something tells me Plum is plain crazy. I glance around the base once more and step away from the tiny woman. I have to find a way off this base before some poor shmuck gets stuck with me.

"Look at me. Look at where I am. I've been railroaded." I most certainly have been tricked into this. My CO should have mentioned this when he got the call from the general. "It's obvious I don't belong here. So please, Sergeant, there has to be a way I can make a phone call."

Plum just looks at me, like something is tickling her funny bone. What is with this woman? Is her hair blue under that hat? I also notice her faint blue eyeliner and shadow. She steps back and stares up at me with an even wider grin.

"I'll get you sorted out, miss."

"Thank you," I say with a relieved sigh.

I follow the sprite in silence for a while, walking past groups of marching soldiers and roaming vehicles. I don't do too well with silence, though.

"Where are you from in Utah, ma'am?"

"A little town called Sugar City. Heard of it?"

"I have now," I smile namely to myself at the idea of a Sugar City family named Plum.

"How 'bout you?" she asks, "where're you from?"

"Cranbury, New Jersey," I proudly state.

"They grow a lot of cranberries there, do they?"

I give a slight hum, though it's lost in the bustle. "Tomatoes. Best you ever had."

"Why do they call it Cranbury then?"

"Why do they call it Sugar City?" I retort.

"Never asked. Don't care," she states, quickly rushing past me.

It's then when I noticed that this woman had led me to a barrack longhouse. The smug look on her face and glittering blue eyes is pissing me off.

"After you," she mockingly bows, gesturing to the entryway.

I should feel shocked and cheated, but after meeting with the general, I guess I've been excepting this.

"You're not taking me to a phone, are you, Sergeant?"

Her smile finally falls, but as she steps closer her size doesn't matter anymore. She's that scary. "No, I am not." She pulls out a piece of paper from her uniform pocket. "It seems the only honest thing you've said to me was your name."

She unfolds the paper and makes a show of reading the printed words, but it's obvious she's practically studied what was written because her blue eyes lock onto mine. I'm royally fucked.

"It says here: you're a deserter. Says you were caught impersonating an officer. Says you'd likely try to make an outside call, even compromise the security of this operation. Anything to get out of combat duty tomorrow, but that's not gonna happen. Ever, Private Fae."

She motions to the barrack's entryway again. Begrudgingly, I step in that direction. The moment I step inside, the reek of sweat and god knows what else assaults my nose and conversations along with odd choices of music ring in my ears. There's no way out of this and anything I say will be considered void due to that simple little paper. I try my best to ignore the weighted gaze of passing soldiers.

"Rumor is a terrible thing," Plum says as she passes by me. "By nightfall, these people will reach the same conclusion: that you're a coward and a liar putting your life above theirs." I certainly believe that considering the stares. "Good news is there's hope for you, Private. Hope in the form of glorious combat. Battle is the great redeemer. The phoenix's flame in which only true heroes are forged. The one place where all people share the same rank, regardless of what kind of pathetic scum they were going in."

Wow, she really likes to listen to herself talk. Bitch. She turns towards a bedding section and gives a shrill whistle. The people inside the area jump up and stand... almost at attention.

"Squad," she loudly announces. I'm surprised how such a small thing can have so much voice. "This here is Private Fae. Private Fae, G Squad."

I look up at the stylized letter at the top of the doorway, wanting to smirk that someone took some wood, painted 'oblin,' and hung it next to the large yellow 'g.' But the funny feeling stops there, though, seeing as the people inside are studying at me. Very intently.

"Isn't that an officer's uniform?" a short man wearing a muted frog green robe asks.

"Those sure ain't officer's cuff links," someone says behind me.

I turn to see a shirtless man with very pointed features with a towel draped around his neck. Seeing the look on his face as well as the others begins to frighten me. However, Plum begins walking around the area, surveying the standing people.

"I see everyone is having a productive morning." A short dark skinned man takes a faded red object off a top bunk. Looks like a hat with messy black patches painted on. "You know, it gives me a swell of pride knowing soldiers of your...," she pauses in the face of a tall also dark skinned squad member, "caliber are gonna be leading the charge tomorrow. Tip of the spear. Edge of the knife." Her gaze falls on a bed." Crack of my...," Plum uncovers a poker game sitting clear as day on the thin mattress, "potion bottle."

"Oh shit," a voice sounds from a rotund... woman, I believe, joined by the disappointed groans around the room.

Plum takes a stack of cards and gives them a little shuffle before offering it to a squad member. "Private Brutus, what is my view of gambling in the barracks?"

A really large man with a mouth full of big white teeth wearing a shirt that says 'Mimic This' takes a card from the proffered deck in the sergeant's hand, looking a little wary of the sprite of a woman.

"You dislike it, Sergeant Plum."

Plum leans towards the squad woman while looking at me. "Stuff, why do I dislike it?"

The woman, Stuff, reaches over to grab a card as well, staring at me for some reason. "It entertains the notion our fate is in the hands other than our own."

Shortly after she grabs a card, the short dark skinned man grabs a card as well. Plum, then, offers the deck to the man in the robe who takes one with a sour look on his face.

"And what is my definitive position on the concept of fate, chorus?"

"Through readiness and discipline, we are masters of our fate."

The four of them then rip the cards and eat the pieces. Literally eat the torn card. The hell have I gotten myself into? I stare at Plum as she approaches me, hands quickly feeling her pockets before pulling out the handcuff keys.

"You might call the notion ironic. But trust me, you'll come around." She takes the cuffs off and turns to the squad. "Private Fae is a deserter. I'm making you all personally responsible for her deliverance." I do not like the looks people are giving me now. "She will be combat ready at 0600 tomorrow." Plum faces me with that shit eating grin again.

Wait a fucking minute. "Combat ready?" I softly ask, kind of panicking, but I could care less if they know I'm afraid or not.

"Private Fae is under the delusion that she does not belong here. We must dissuade her of this delusion." Plum looks to the squad. "If she tries to run, feel free to 'suade' her until she can't even walk. Can't walk," she thrusts her face towards mine, "can't run." Then, she begins to glide past me.

"Sergeant," I try to follow her, "I will never be comba-"

She thrusts my clothes and shoes back into my hands, forcing the air in my lungs out. "I envy you, Fae. Tomorrow morning, you will be a phoenix. Born again from your cowardly ashes."

The sprite leaves, followed by the two soldiers who had quietly followed us the entire morning. One of them yells out to the barracks about PT in ten minutes. The sharp looking man with the towel steps in front of me as if I would make an attempt to leave. More people from nearby bedding areas gather as well. A sinking feeling in my stomach makes me ill. Suddenly, someone pushes their finger into my lower spine. I spin around to see Stuff eyeing me with a deadly look in her yellow eyes.

"You're not in uniform, Private," she says as she eats the last piece of her card.

Yup, I'm dead and surrounded by crazies.


	3. The Slaughter

Getting up early, despite how often I do it because of all the media, is still a pain in my ass. Not to mention the pain in my entire body from yesterday. Everyone made sure to make a show of how much they don't care for me.

"Stupid fairy," I heard often.

I should have been more careful about changing in front of Stuff. She had noticed my dark purple butterfly wing tattoos on my back I got in spite of my father back in my younger rebellious days before I met Roland and made sure to tell everyone.

"Surprisingly resistant," they said after pushing me around when the officers left for the night. "Thought she'd break her wings if we even breathed on her."

I did not sleep well that night. And the rude awakening of alarms and Sergeant Plum spewing shit about a new day and destiny was not helping matters. I got herded to the building where our exosuits are and into my own. The man who wore the robe yesterday afternoon, Thing I think, was helping me into it. As he was doing so, I couldn't help but notice how everyone else in the squad is getting ready.

Stuff has just strapped into hers and is going through diagnostics before stepping down from the suit's cage. The short dark skinned man, Day, though he prefers Sunny, hops down from his cage and runs in place for a bit. Fang, the pointed man, tests out the arms of the suit with quick jabs into an invisible enemy. Across from me is the taller dark skinned man who I haven't heard say a word at all. He stares at me like prey as he rolls the suit's arms. I try to smile, but his look doesn't fade. I tear my gaze away, seeing Fang attach claymore mines to their suit with duct tape.

"Come on, Brutus, let's have it!" Fang yells excitedly at his friend who is settling the protective torso and legs of his suit over him.

That's when I notice his odd choice of clothing underneath. Well... rather lack thereof. And I'm not the only one who notices as the large man duct tapes a small toy to his chest, an off white mushroom with small eyes and a smiling mouth.

"For goblin's sake, Brutus," Stuff exclaims.

Brutus, walking away from the cage faces the woman. "I got to be free, man."

I do my best not to stare at the pasty whiteness of the man's ass cheeks as he walks around.

"Alright, girl, let's get this show on the road. I gotta suit up," Thing says as he turns his attention back to me, putting my hands where they belong in the suit and fastening the suit around me.

I'm slightly distracted though. There's chatter going on in my head and I'm still so dazed from lack of a good night's sleep that most things don't seem to make sense, no matter how simple. All I know is that everyone has made wearing the suit's look way too easy.

"What's the noise," I ask the big eyed man. He ignores me. "Listen, I've never been in one of these."

Thing looks at the screen next to me, "Yea, well I've never made a move on Stuff, but you can bet when that day comes, I'll make it work."

"Th-Thing-"

"It's Thang," he says past his gritted lopsided teeth.

"Thang. Thang," I commit that to memory. "Just think about this, man. I could hurt somebody."

Thang gives a toothy smirk. "Not with the safety on, you won't." He walks away from me.

Um... safety? They want me to go into this war without even telling about the safety setting. I didn't even know the suit had a safety. How am I to fight, to live, if I can't shoot?

"Wait, where is the safety?"

"Exactly," Thang announces as he gets into his suit with the rest of the squad laughing at my expense.

}{

Elsewhere on the base:

A soldier walks into the training floor, a dark gray painted exosuit surrounding him. The object of his attention is near the back wall.

A soft release of breath echoes around the tall meditating figure, the world meaning nothing at the moment until the soldier gets close enough. Striking blue eyes fall on the suited man, silently commanding him to speak.

"It's time."

The blue eyes disappear behind darkened lids for a moment before the tall figure stands, stretching the lithe muscles unhidden by the black muscle shirt and form fitting slacks. Without a word, the towering man brushes past the soldier and within moments, reaches his own suit.

Faded white paint of the Scottish flag and streaks of blood red decorate the black metal of the exosuit as the imposing figure silently and quickly locks the suit together around him. Soon, he's loading weapons and placing them on his person while the suit powers up. Heavy duty gloves with metal on the knuckles get laced on as well, a solid fist pound to settle them in place. Across from him sits his choice weapons.

A sword looking like a part of a helicopter blade, but made of a much sturdier metal that can cut through the obsidian and amber-like bodies of the Mimics with deadly ease. Settled next to the wicked blade, a staff awaits. This weapon is made from the enemy itself. Those jagged alien tendrils were collected and worked on by the best to create this beauty. Heavy, solid, and lethal. At the top for dramatic flair, a collection of the amber parts of their bodies sits, reflecting any light that falls upon it. The entire weapon a trophy of war.

Both weapons quickly find themselves being picked up. The sword sheathed on his back and the staff in his left hand. Now ready for the coming war, the towering man leaves for his ship, flanked by two soldiers of his choosing. The best of the best who survived Verdun. As they stormed past the hanger doors, a slew of soldiers were gathered, most likely awaiting orders. One person recognizes the imposing man and steps forward out of the crowd.

"Bloody hell, it's the Full Metal Gol-,"

The man swings his staff, sending the idiot solider to the ground. Shaking off the past nuisance, the man continues to the ship with a grim look on his face.

}{

Despite my constant questions about my safety or weapons in general, no one bothered to answer. The only time people talked to me was to give me orders and directions which has led me to marching with the squad out of the exosuit hanger. And I'm having the hardest time trying to walk in this stupid suit. I feel like I'm going to lose my balance if I take too big a step or too small of one. It's settling in that I'm going to die quite soon.

"Thang," I hear Plum call in front of me.

"Sarge?" the large eyed man responds.

"Take care of Private Fae." Now this is what I wanted to avoid! Does no one listen to reason?

"What?! All day?" Poor guy. I hope I don't get him killed.

"Something tells me it won't be nearly that long."

... Well then. I guess I shouldn't be surprised since I was just thinking that myself. And I continue thinking about it as we start marching on the air field on our way to the drop ship. How are these people able to walk in time? I keep having to make half steps to stay in line. Looking up from my feet, I see raising platforms full of soldiers waiting to get in their ships. Ahead of us is our designated ship. I can't do this. My nerves are completely fried as I find myself marching away from the squad.

Brutus notices and calls for Thang, both chasing after me yelling my last name and pulling me back in line. They keep a better rein on me until they set me in my place on the ship and into the cable harness. I'm locked in as the rest of the squad gets into place and the ship takes off. It won't take long to get from the base in England to the coast of France just beyond the Cliffs of Dover. Not long at all until I have to fight the Mimics, still not knowing how to turn the safety off or how to use my weapons. I tightly shut my eyes.

I'm honestly frightened. My lack of experience and no one willing to care for me due to being called a deserter has me wishing I wasn't here or that I should have dumped Roland's sorry ass a long time ago and continued toward being a soldier. But I can't change what has happened. All I can do try to make it through this.

I feel beads of sweat gather on my brow, sticking my short hair to my forehead under the helmet when Plum begins talking near the front of the ship.

"We lost Germany. We lost France. If we lose today we won't get to fight another," I can hear her stepping closer. "I know the pressure on you is enormous."

It almost sounds like she cares. Well, she probably does truly care about the little 'Goblin' squad, just not me. One of the pilots yell out that there's two minutes til our drop off.

"It's alright to be scared," Plum continues, "Remember, there's no courage without fear."

I can hear her nearly right in front of me, but I refused to open my eyes even as she walks away. I hear Fang calling to someone. When he continues, I peek open a brown eye to the man on the other side of the ship just to the left of me.

"Oi, I think there's something wrong with your suit."

I stare at him now.

"Yeah," he continues, "There's a dead gal in it."

Everyone in the drop ship laughs collectively. Sunny, strapped next to Fang, looks like he's about to say something, too.

"Watch your back out there, ma'am."

"No one else will," Stuff announced next to me.

Oh... how comforting. Plum yells out saying that there's one minute to drop off. Only a minute to figure out how to use my weapons.

"Hey." I call out to anyone. "Hey!"

"What?" Someone responds to me from behind.

"How do I turn... the safety off on my weapon?" The alarms start blaring around the ship.

"What?" The person asks over the ringing and buzzing sound.

"How do I turn my safety-" At that moment, the floor beneath me opens up, revealing the beach far far far below us. "Oh my god," I nearly scream.

"Thirty seconds til drop off," Plum announces. "On my mark." Pare, I think, looks super excited in front of Plum. "Get set to deploy. Activate drop lines. Remember-"

Half the ship suddenly goes up in flames, shrapnel flying everywhere. Another explosion and more people are disappearing in the flaming holes of the ship. I scream in panic. Plum is yelling at the soliders to drop now. The same order going around to those still left. I'm too busy seeing the flames and watching others release their suits from the ship. One at a time, they fall, connected only by the cable on their suits. Two get caught on the small walkway in the middle of the ship until they relax and continue falling. Pare releases, but a nanosecond later, an explosion pushes him into the ship support beams and rips him apart.

Plum looks at me, yelling over the groaning engines. "Fae! Drop or die," then she jumps out of the ship that's ripping apart every second I stay. Did she do a flip?

Finally, I see the huge red lever on my right shoulder with big black letters saying 'Release.' I slam my fist on the damned thing. Next thing I know I'm free falling and freaking the fuck out until the cable runs out, jerking me for a moment. I'm still connected to the failing ship as are others. As I uncontrollably spin around, I witness two people slamming right into each other and someone completely on fire waving their arms around. I glance above me only to see the ship explode into pieces and the cable snapping, dropping me down to the beach.

I wasn't prepared for the very tall drop I still had left as I face plant into the wet sand, the visor on my helmet breaking off. Somehow, I get to my feet in the clunky suit, spewing sandy water from my mouth. All around me, solider are marching towards the fight, some getting Hail Maried from afar. Brutus, with his stuffie mushroom, is standing in place, cheering about how they made it.

Until a drop ship falls right on him, sending a forceful wave of wet sand which pushes me to my side. Spitting out the grit as I get on my knees and finally back on my feet, it occurs to me once again that I'm going to die.

Completely dazed, I begin following the direction everyone else is. More people are being shot down like ducks at a fair. I can't ignore, as I'm walking, some man's suit going haywire, slowly electrocuting him to death as he flails in the water. I hurry past him, turning my attention to the small screen on my right arm of the suit. How did I get into the language menu? Which button is "back?" No, I did not mean to pick Japanese.

Someone behind me fires their over-the-shoulder cannon, hitting a Mimic dead on only to be shot down moments later. The soldier was so close the thud of his body dropping down was enough for me to feel beneath my feet. I look back knowing for sure that they're a pile of char. Turning forwards I see a flaming soldier walk by still heading towards the fight. A thunderous thumping noise catches my attention. I angle my head since I'm unable to fully use my neck due to the limited mobility of the suit. Oh shit. A dropship is coming a little close to the ground. I pick up my pace away from it when I realize another ship spiraling out of control in my direction. For fuck's sake. I try to run in the stupid suit. A heavy thud unsettles my legs. The crash sounds way too close. I risk a look back as I jump behind a mound of sand and dirt, falling once again on my face.

Too close. Too fucking close. Taking a moment to breathe, I peek up out of my little ditch, glancing around. The dropship I nearly missed still has survivors somehow. One soldier in an exosuit style I can't never seen before comes storming out, shaking off the crash landing like it wasn't a problem. Following behind is a rather tall figure with the staff in hand, I think. I can't think. The garbled radio chatter in my damaged helmet is too much.

I push the damn thing of my head and gaze around the smoke-filled area. Something to my left catches my attention. One of the soldiers, the one with the staff, is fighting off a Mimic. Deep grunts make their way to me as the soldier blocks the wicked appendages of the alien and breaks them off. The Mimic he was fighting goes off to attack unsuspecting soldiers where I can't see anymore behind drop ship scraps. Clearly not done with the alien, the man runs after only to be thrown back. Grunting in pain as he sits up, the cannons on his back set into place and fire, killing the alien. The last fire shot the Mimic had sent his way got deflected my way instead, hitting the ship scraps. I duck to protect my head from the initial fire burst, then get to my knees to get away from the heat of the flames. I pause for a moment. The man is walking my direction, slowing to a stop as he looks down at me.

It's him. It's Bog King. Despite the situation, I couldn't help but lay in awe of his war glory. If anyone can help us win the sudden slaughter, it's him. I go to smile when suddenly, a Mimic fireball strikes him the back. A scream rips from my throat seeing the man land next to me dead still. Blue eyes staring glassily at the smokey sky. Our only hope, gone. I can't. If the best of the best couldn't survive, what was the point? Tears filled my eyes as I run in the opposite direction away from the bloodshed. I just can't. How are we going to get through this?

"Private Fae" A familiar high-pitched voice calls. A suit running straight into me pushes me back. "You're going the wrong way. You're going to miss your moment." She turned me around and pushes me towards a sandy ditch filled with the other soldiers.

As I'm being pushed, I hear Thang talk to himself. "What the hell. They are not supposed to know were even coming."

Sunny falls to his knees next Thang, yelling. "We walked into a slaughterhouse, man. It's a slaughterhouse."

Huge explosions grab their attention for moment.

"Pull yourself together," someone yells as Plum pushes me into the ditch wall.

"On your feet people," she yells, walking past me. "Get in line. Stuff, get me a sit-rep."

If I can't leave, I'm going to give myself a fighting chance. I just need access to my weapons.

"Safety. My safety," I tell Thang and Sunny, but at the same time, Plum is throwing them orders to cover the flank, but I continue my pleading as they walk past. "Please, my safety. How do I get my safety-," a Mimic ball lands not a yard away.

I duck to avoid damage. Thang and Sunny are now too far to continue bothering.

"I'm waiting, Stuff," Plum firmly says.

Stuff looks down at a screen. "I got traces. Five hundred meters and closing in fast."

"Son of a spell," she says softly, though I can still hear her. A soldier pushes me aside right into the ditch well again. God dammit. I get to my knees at least.

"Look alive if you want to stay that way," Plum yells. "Firing positions."

I take this moment to figure out my damn suit speaking in Japanese at me. If I can just find the safety...

"Here they come," I hear the sergeant say while I'm still fiddling. "Mean as imps and thick as grass. Wait till they're right on us! A few more seconds."

I think I'm getting somewhere. Can't tell with the Japanese characters though. Movement catches my eyes however. Something is moving in the middle of the ditch under the sand and dirt. I start screaming for attention, but no one is truly listening. The Mimic starts stabbing people in the back and throwing them away, spinning around like crazy. The people of the Goblin squad are getting murdered, their bodies falling around me. I find my feet and back away as the alien sits still long enough for Thang and Sunny to shoot at it, but it moves so fast they're already corpses. I continue backing away figuring out the suit as bodies keep flying and landing and explosions happen all around. The creature takes a moment to intimidate us, thrashing its tendrils out so fast multiple times they create mini sonic booms as it trill-growls in their weird way before rolling through the sand and taking out more soldiers.

Come on! They shouldn't make it that difficult to turn the safety off. I need to figure this- ah ha! I let out a round the bullets. There we go. I aim for the alien as best I can, completely not used to the recoil as I try to follow the deadly creature and shouting out as if that helps my aim. But the recoil was too much. I fall back shooting into the air for a moment. I glance up to see that the thing is dead. Well shit, I got it! I let out a laugh as the Mimic crumbles and the fire of life inside it dies. I continue laughing with gleeful success. I think I can do this. It's certainly a confidence booster. I feel quite proud.

Until an appendage lands next to my head. I stare at this Mimic as it walks to the center of the ditch, surveying the area around it. This one looks different. Larger, blue fire of life coursing through it, a lower pitch of noises. I aim my weapon and pull the trigger, but the suit's voice is saying to reload. Just my fucking luck. There has to be something I can use. The larger Mimic is joined by several smaller ones. My eyes fall on the body next to me. A claymore sits within arms reach. I peek back at the group of Mimics. I think they know I'm not dead. The smaller ones start flaring their tendrils. The blue one doesn't move, the low rumble of its inner fire scaring me. Suddenly, it looks at me as it's entire body goes jagged and lunges for me.

In a heartbeat, I grab the bomb and hold it to my chest, activating it as the creature stands above me. The alien explodes into pieces, but as the body parts fall I'm burning, melting. There's so much alien. Too much. I can feel myself dying. Fucking acidic blood. It burns...

I sit up screaming. The pain not as strong now. My hands... Silver catches my attention. A bus with Bog King's image rolls by.


	4. Telling Someone

"On your feet, maggot." A soldier yells, kicking the bags I'm laying on. Don't I recognize him? I slowly rise as he continues. "Get in line before I bust your hole with my boot heel, maggot."

"Hold up there, soldier," a familiar voice says. Carefully, I watch a sprite of a woman idle up to me with the smile on her face. "Can I help you, miss?"

Is it really her? "Sergeant Plum... is is...," I glance around the base.

"That is my name," she says, pausing for a moment as I continue to drink in the familiarity of this entire situation. "I think I get it. What was it? Poker night with the boys? Bachalorette party?"

"No," I say half-heartedly, trying to comprehend what I've just witnessed. "I'm... not sure."

"It happens," Plum says. "We'll get you sorted out, miss. Let me take those for you." She reaches for the clothes in my arms, but I duck away covering the items like they're precious.

"What... what day is it?" What is going on?

"For you," Plum begins, pulling out a white paper from her uniform pocket, "judgement day." There's that shit-eating grin.

I'm directed to follow her. I'm not really listening as I take in the base. Has nothing changed? Weren't we just in the middle of a war? Did I have a vision? I never believed in such things, but do I have that ability? Did I see what is to come? Something Plum is saying does sound as familiar as everything else that's been happening or said so far. I stare at her for a moment trying to remember what she said in my vision. I say the next bit with her.

"... in which the only true heroes are forged."

Plum halts abruptly next to me. "Did you just interrupt me, Private?"

I turn to her, a look of surprise and hidden anger in her too light blue eyes. If it was a vision, maybe she might listen since I shocked her. "Sergeant, you're... you're not going to believe what I'm about to tell you."

"No I am not," she says firmly.

Ah, that's right. I'm deemed as a lying, manipulative deserter.

"Now where was I?" She's not gonna listen and I don't need her getting angry with me so soon today.

"The phoenix flame...," I say to appease her.

Plum grins widely for a moment, glad I guess that I was listening or that she gets to say her practiced spiel. She strolls towards the barracks, reciting exactly what she said in my vision. Even when introducing me to the Goblin squad and catching the secret card game. The ritual of eating the cards are the exact same. It had to be a vision.

The PT was just as hard if not harder than in my vision since my contemplative silence was often taken for disrespect. The night was spent sleepless just as before. Getting the squad suited up, with the same warm-ups and weird habits of the team, was nearly the same. Were visions normally this detailed?

Thang distracts me from my thoughts, clicking my chest piece into place and pushing my hand at the handles in the arm of the suit. Curious of the variance of what I could do, I thumb around the controls and manage to get half my chest strap to fling open, almost hitting the bug eyed man in the face.

"Hey! What the hell is wrong with you, girl?" he yelps, ducking away from the suit. "Haven't you been in one of these before?"

"Maybe," I whisper, not sure if I could count my vision self's experience. When he locks the chest back on, yellowish eyes study me. "Do you know where the safety is?"

That was certainly an issue I had in my dream. I hold out my armored arm to the short man. "I'm not sure."

"Good," Thang states.

Well that didn't change much.

Soon, we're on the dropship. I didn't try to run this time, already knowing that it wouldn't work. Plum's speech about fear and courage happens just like it did before. Even Fang's insult occurred as well as Sunny's follow up. I speak at the same time as Stuff about how no one else will watch my back. She looks at me with those yellow eyes before a huge smile spreads across her weighty face with a short laugh.

"Jinxs, bitch."

An alarm sounds, the floor of the ship opens. Seeing the ground so far away still scares me. The memory of falling is not a pleasant one. Wait. The ship! I try to get Plum's attention as she counts down till drop off.

Extreme heat blasts through the ship. I'm too late. This time, however, because I was playing closer attention to my surroundings, the sudden shockwave of the explosion sets a heavy ring in my head. Or at least, I notice it this time around even as I'm the last one to drop down again. Getting strung up by the metal cord and finally falling to the salty puddle is just like my dream. This time, I manage to not damage my helmet though I still took the fall right to the face. Quickly getting to my feet, I remember and hear Brutus.

"Behind you," I scream over the din of the on-going battle.

He turns, but doesn't move, getting squashed as the dropship covers me in wet sand. I tried to change my dream, but maybe there's still a chance to save the others. I retrace my steps as I did in the vision. Noting the first low flying dropship, I pick up the pace knowing the out of control one is close behind. I jump into the same ditch to avoid Brutus' fate. This time I manage to completely damage the helmet. Cursing, I pull the warbling thing off. By the time I throw the useless armor away, Bog is fighting with a Mimic and runs after it only to be thrown back, shooting at it just like before. Finding my feet, I rush to the man just as he's picking up his fallen staff.

"Incoming," I shout, pushing him to safety when pain spikes in my entire body as I land on the hero. Those blue eyes stare wide eyed at me, but they quickly avert. "I'm hit," I gasp. He pushes me off and gets to his hands and knees, pointedly trying not to look at me. "How bad is it?"

He pauses long enough to hesitantly see the damage, a look of concern drowning his face for only a moment. He looks away. What that a blush? "Ye have a hole in yer... chest," he almost says matter-of-factly as he fiddles with my suit.

"Really?" It didn't feel like it, but I can't feel anything other than my head.

He yanks something out of my suit and gets to his knees. My suit's soft whirring is powering down. I glance at the item in Bog's hand as an explosion happens not far from us. I stare at him, trying to understand what just happened.

"Did you just take my... my battery?"

Without another word, he rises to his feet, towering far over my fallen form, and walks away. I'm left laying there in the upturned dirt and sand with a hole in my chest and a dead suit holding me. This isn't how my vision ended at all. Trying to save Bog caused this much of a difference? Well, shit.

A Mimic starts crawling out of the ground way to close to me. My voice saying 'no' repeatedly barely processes as the alien dangerously writhes. A jagged tendril comes straight for me.

"Holy fu-"

I sit up, screaming at the phantom pain. I check my chest with bound wrists. No hole. I look up. Bog's face rolls by. A kick startles me. The tall man calling me maggot stands over me. He's not as tall as Bog is. But I ignore the man and realize something. Having a vision like that twice? Unlikely. Something has happened to me. I have to explain this to someone.

A jeep's engine captures my attention. Plum... Ignoring the still insulting soldier, I run to the jeep calling for Plum and waving like a madwoman. She stops the vehicle and glides out with unnatural ease.

"Can I help you, miss?"

Panicking now, my words roll out of my mouth. "My name is Major Marianne Fae. I'm US Army Media Relations. I was at a bachalorette party or a poker game, but you have an order in your left pocket, says I'm a deserter caught impersonating a soldier," I motion to the pocket, the woman glaring down and back at me in questionable silence. "But what it doesn't say is that your name is Master Sergeant Plum from Sugar City, Utah and if you'll give me three seconds to explain how I know that, you may just save every soldier on this base."

I stop, waiting for the tiny woman to say something, taking a moment to slow my heart rate. Her silence unreadable. Then I realize... despite knowing what I know, she doesn't believe me. I continue trying to talk to her, but with a nod of her head, the two soldiers wearing red berets that have followed us the past two times start manhandling me, dragging me to the barrack house. I still try to knock some sense into these people the entire time, hoping to convince someone that what I say is true.

"You have to believe me," I twist around while having my heels drag along the concrete. "They know we're coming. They're waiting for us. I have been there. I've seen it. You're all doomed. Doomed!" I yell to the congregating soldiers in the longhouse until I'm pushed into the bedding area of G Squad. I know I'm being a bit dramatic, but if it gets my point across. No, it's not working. I need something different.

"Okay, okay." I pull myself away from the hands of the soldiers. "Fine." I turn to Plum. "This is G Squad, yes?"

Plum softly affirms.

"Not that I should know, but okay." I focus on the people around the bunks. "Have any of you met me before?"

Stuff scoffs, giving a dry laugh. "Bitch, I don't know you.."

Excited, I slink in front of her, pointing at her with cuffed hands. "Exactly, yes. Thank you." I ignore her wide-eyed stare. "Your name is Stuff." I point to he guy next to her. "You're Brunt." Wait, that's wrong. "Brutus. Brutus. You fight balls out, literally." I point to the others. "Day, though you prefer Sunny. Fang. Thang. You're...," I pause at the large dark man. "He doesn't talk much, but there's a card game under the bed." I have to prove myself after not knowing that guy.

However, the squad members groan and cuss at me when I rat them out and Plum uncovers the game. I'm trying to remember what I've seen the last two times as Plum picks up the cards.

"Brutus is working on a flush. Uh, spades. No, clubs." Everyone looks at one another suddenly after studying the cards. I might be getting to them now. I step up to Plum, hunching down a bit to meet her eyes, and whisper. "And you're gonna make them eat those cards. Am I right?" I take her silence for a yes. Smiling widely, I back away, taking my first deep breaths since almost running in front of Plum's jeep. "What I'm about to tell you sounds crazy. It's true. And you have to listen to me. Your very lives depend on it."

}{

They... uh... didn't believe me.

Instead, I was handcuffed to my bed and duct taped my mouth. I could only mumble as Plum told the squad about my supposed cowardice and deserting tendencies and spewing that shit about phoenixes. Then, they all left for PT. I was left like this for the rest of the afternoon and had been dragged by Stuff and other female soldiers to the showers. Being semi-cleaned by them was humiliating. And no one let me eat in fear that the "shit" I was spewing, however true it was, would continue. I was clasped back on my bed and was left there until morning. Even then, the squad had collectively unlocked me and dragged me to the suits, keeping me from taking the tape off still. The conversations I earlier experienced weren't present. Stuff didn't even complain about Brutus' nudity. The march there was full of Plum spouting orders and directions, but that was it. As I was locked into place on the dropship, Fang and Sunny didn't bother insulting me as before. Each one of the soldiers I could see had looks of question and maybe fear. I've startled them that much apparently.

I didn't stop trying to talk, though. They needed to know about the Mimic bomb that would take out the ship. I repeat the same thing, hoping someone can decipher my message, but no one seems eager to find out. I try licking at the tape. My sweat and saliva has slowly loosened the adhesiveness over night. My tongue and throat feels terribly raw by now, but when Plum starts the countdown, I resume with vigor. Wide eyed stares surround me.

"What, what is she saying," Thang asks behind me. Finally, someone's trying to listen. "Stuff, what is she saying?"

The alarm sounds. I'm running out of time. The floor opens. The tape is almost off. Plum is giving orders for deployment. My tongue has gotten to an edge of the tape.

"The ship is about to explo-."

Too late.

Wanting to avoid the rough landings I've had twice before, I disengage myself from the ship first and land on my feet, dropping to a knee for a moment after sailing through the sky for a bit. I hear Brutus' cheering. I rush to him before the dropship does. A harsh push and...

I wake up with full body pain. Okay then. That didn't work.

This time, I don't stop pushing Brutus until I'm safely out of the way. I'm getting more familiar with my suit and this situation. I leave Brutus sitting on the ground in shock as I head for where Bog will be. He can help. He has to. I avoid the initial crash of his ship and can see him in the distance. A smile grows as I get closer. A jeep shows up in my peripherals.

I wake up. I keep waking the fuck up.

I run faster, missing the jeep by a hair. Eyes only on Bog, I push him into the crashed ship, laying on top of him.

"I'm sorry," I huff. "I'm trying to save you. We're getting slaughtered. You need to get us off this beach." I never look away from the tall silent man with stunned blue eyes as I aim my arm gun at the hole I know is above me, riddling the just arriving Mimic there with bullets and fire a cannon to my left at another appearing Mimic. "We have to go," I start pulling him to his feet, "this dropship is about to explode. We have to go now." I urge, walking out, stopping under the ships torn wing, and holding my hand out to the quietly following hero. "Wait." I fire at the alien coming out of the ground nearby. "Come on." I yell, hearing a creature on top of the ship.

Quickly, I jog past the wing and fire at the rolling being, finally getting it with a cannon blast. I glance back at Bog. "Come on!" I start walking away, turning to see him still standing dangerously near the ship. "Well, come on. The ship is about to explode."

Those blue eyes stare at me as he drops his staff. Blue that will haunt me.

"What are you doing?"

"Find me when ye wake up," he says, his deep voice slightly breaking. An explosion almost drowns him out, but I heard him, though I don't understand.

"What?" I find myself saying.

"Come find me when ye wake-."

I wake up with phantom heat and pain ripping through me. Faint memories of ship shrapnel and bright flames flying at me. I rise up to my feet before Maggot Guy gets close, my eyes falling on Bog's image. I have to find a way to him like he said. I play nicely with Plum for the umpteenth time until we get to the barracks. In my haste to get to Bog, I speed walk to the Goblins, ignoring the droll of Plum and hiding the card game with a wink before the tiny woman notices as she strolls in.

"Squad, this is Pri-."

"Private Fae," I interrupt for once with a smile. "You must be G Squad. It's so good to meet you."

"Isn't... that... an officer's uniform?" Thang asks, unsure of how to react to such civility I suppose.

I turn to face up coming Fang, showing off my silver wrists, talking with him at the same time. "These sure aren't officer's cuff links."

The sharp featured man falls silent. I face Plum who is starting to pat down her body looking for the keys. "Keys are...," I murmur, "left pocket... probably."

She stares at me, petite body going still when she sees I'm right. She says nothing about it, though, as the cuffs fall free. "Private Fae is a deserter," Plum says softly instead. I shrug my shoulders at the squad with a yea-it's-true-sorry look. "I'm making you all personally responsible for her deliverance." When I'm free, I turn to my bunk, taking Sunny's ladybug-like hat off the thin mattress and giving it back to him. "She will be ready for combat by 0600 tomorrow." I grab my clothes and shoes from the red berets and place them gently on my bed. "Private Fae is under the delusion that she does not belong here. We must dissuade her of the delusion. If she tries to run-."

"Oh, no. No, no, no." I face the squad after smoothing out my bed. "I'm not gonna run from you guys." I give a flashing smile, not unlike Roland's admittedly. "Not a chance. Thank you, Sergeant Plum." I shake the woman's hand and step back, clapping my hands together to fill the stunned silence in the bedding area until the short woman leaves with a huff. "What now?"I ask. "A little PT?"

A voice at the front of the longhouse calls time for PT.


	5. Getting to You

I already know the route and routine. It's just a matter of getting away, but I think my cooperation will help the soldiers and officers not keep such a heavy eye on me. I think the best time for me to duck out is during the run around the base. I bide my time until then.

"What are you? Sound off," Plum yells between chanting 'left' and 'right.'

Everyone, save myself, replies with "I'm a warrior."

"What do warriors do?"

"Kill."

"What are you gonna do?"

"Kill."

I see a group of buildings where I think Bog might be. That's when I hear Sunny say the same thing as before.

"It's going to be my twentieth drop tomorrow, man."

Thang responds as usual. "You haven't been in twenty battles, mate."

"I have too."

Thang doesn't believe him. "You're gonna dump your load the second we hit the beach tomorrow."

Stuff is done with the chatter. "Why don't you two get a nice cup of shut the hell up!"

"Ha ha, you funny girl," Sunny retorts, "but I bet you I set some kind of record tomorrow."

Fang puts in his words. "Fastest time running backwards, Sunny Day, slipping in your own shit."

Plum has caught wind of the conversation. "Knock off the grabsass."

This is my chance. "Grab this, Sarge!" I yell, stopping as Plum pulls the platoon to a halt, giving me the chance to fall into push-up position, waiting for her to stand over me.

"Private, drop and give me...," she stops herself for a moment seeing that I'm way ahead of her.

I look up, almost innocently. "Fifty, Sarge?"

"That's right. Fifty." She addresses the platoon. "Drop and give me fifty. Compliments of Private Fae."

As everyone groans and gripes, a couple of armored vehicles are coming this way. I need to time this just right. Just a couple push-ups. At my fifth push, I drop and roll under the car, though I get caught under a wheel.

I swear I could hear Plum scream and say, "What the spell were you thinking?" as my vision goes black.

I go through the morning once again, this time waiting for the second vehicle to pass under. Fetal position don't fail me now. No pain! Hell, yes. Oh, I need to get up. I rush to my feet and sprint to keep the car to my side until I'm far enough away from the group.

Okay. Now to find Bog. From the Intel I've gathered from a couple of previous todays, he might be in the Mimic gun range reserved for the elite. I ask around for where that is as if I had a task to complete to lower suspicions. When I find it, I can hear the cacophony of bullets being fired even from outside. The space was not what I expected. Large areas with hole ridden walls sit in an ordered fashion, machines like industrialized claws move around in the same chaotic way of the aliens. As I walk, I'm getting cold stares. This place is crawling with soldiers of higher rank than I, probably wondering what I'm doing here. I pointedly ignore them, trying to act like I'm here on business.

I find him and my jaw locks shut to prevent it gaping.

The miles of man I've seen up close many times holds himself parallel to the ground with only his arms. That's a lot of man to hold up. The long muscles defined even from my distance at the "Do Not Cross' line bordering the edge of the currently on floor. Mech-Mimics jolt around the floor and he's not even bothered. A group starts glaring holes into my back.

"Sergeant King," I call.

No answer. I peek behind me at the building crowd. Oh dear.

"Excuse me," my voice calls a little louder. "Sergeant King?"

The crowd is getting close and I still receive no response. I need to get to him before these preying people get to me. Taking a breath, I cross the line. A deep booming alarm tones once, echoing across the floor. I lean back, narrowly avoiding a Mech-Mimic. I end up dancing my weight from one foot to the next with the machine as it twitches this way and that. I run towards the man, the machine passing behind me.

"Excuse me," I huff.

"Yes?" he says, hopping to his feet, glaring. "Who said ye could talk ta me?"

My neck cranes to look him in those blazing blue eyes. Sweat beads at his brow and neck. Black hair slicked back except for a few rebellious strands hanging in front of his face. The black muscle shirt does not hide the expanse of his built form. That small waist and broad shoulders... I visibly swallow.

"Have Ah got something on mah face, soldier?" he asks, heavily approaching me. His height intimidating as blue fire scorches my soul. I choose to answer his first question.

"You did," I say quickly. "You did. Tomorrow at the beach. Tomorrow at the-," a machine whizzes behind, scaring the daylights out of me. "We meet. You said to find you when I wake up." His eyes soften considerably, his entire body slumping down. "You do know what's happening to me." I realize out loud.

Bog lays a large hand on my shoulder. "Come with me," he murmurs. "Now."

He steps around me and walks off the floor with haste, his long legs leaving me trailing far behind. I can see a length of some tattoo on the backs of his arms. He stops at a shelf, grabbing a dark jacket as I catch up. I have so many questions, but before I could voice them Bog covers my mouth when I approach with his large hand still halfway through his sleeve, the fabric rough against my lips. His eyes speak in volumes. I gently nod under the weight of his hand. Zipping up the jacket, he resumes leaving me in the dust. Once we're outside, he slows his pace enough for me to jog every now and then.

"Ye don't talk ta anyone about this, but me. Best case scenario, ye end up in a psyche ward. Worst case, ye get dissected for study. We clear?"

"Crystal," I whisper.

"First time ye died, what happened?" He doesn't so much as give me a sideways glance as we walk. "Ye killed a Mimic?" I answer in the affirmative. "Describe it."

"Um... it was different. Was bigger, bluish."

"And ye got covered in its blood." Not a question, but I answer anyway.

"As a matter of fact, I did."

"They know we're coming on the beach tomorrow. It's a slaughter, isn't it?"

I didn't have to say much. "How do you know this?" He speeds up again. "Could you just wait?" He stops, but doesn't face me. "Could you please just explain to me what the hell is happening?"

The broad shoulders slump and the long neck angles down, his head hanging for a moment until those eyes bear down upon me as he steps closer. That large hand touches my shoulder very briefly. "What happened to ye, happened ta me. Ah had it, Ah lost it." He notices his hand and quickly pulls it away as if I burned him.

"That's great, though. There's a cure. How do I get rid of this?"

The Scotsman shakes his head. "First, Ah need yer help?"

Bog King needs my help? "With what exactly?"

His blue eyes bore into mine. "Winning the war." He spins on his heel, leaving me to process his words. "Let's go. Come on."

Bog has hopped into a jeep, waiting for me to move. How could I help? A short honk pulls my legs in the direction of the passenger's side. I settle into the firm seat already vibrating with the jeep's roar of life. The wheel in Bog's grasp groans as if it would break. The look on his face alone would be enough to kill a Mimic right now. Casting my eyes to my lap, I wonder what he would have me do and where he's taking me. Movement occurs in the corner of my eye. His left leg is bouncing around. I can't tell if he's nervous or excited as that leg continues to move in those tight black pants.

Oh geeze, my train of thought sends an onslaught of heated blood to my face and my gaze quickly returns to my lap. Amazing what a few years of swearing off love can do to a woman. Avoiding men and women alike for so long and now I can't control my thoughts towards a war hero. A pretty good looking one I've seen over again since the Verdun battle. Ugh, I'm ridiculous. While mentally beating myself up, I notice that we've arrived at a part of the base I've never seen before.

Bog pulls the vehicle to a stop and jumps out immediately after turning it off. I rush out of my seat to catch up. Without waiting to see if I'm keeping up, he throws open a door and dashes inside. A heavy wave of burning metal and fire layered with something revolting hits me so hard, I stagger and blink away tears as I try to follow the Scot. Everywhere inside are suits under repair. I pass by one being power washed. Blood and bits of flesh collect on a drain below the damaged suit. That explains the overpowering underlying odor. I may not be afraid of blood and gore, but the smell of death is too much.

I follow Bog past mechanics cleaning and repairing suits for tomorrow's unknown massacre. One mechanic in loose coveralls and welder's mask sees Bog who nods his head. The person rushes to put their welder down while Bog and I continue rushing to a door with a keypad. A quick series of beeps and we're in. The dim lighting in the stairwell is admittedly off putting but as I follow Bog, the lights in the room below wash out the dark.

"Boggy, what's this?" the mechanic loudly whispers, the voice obviously a 'her.' "What are you doing here. You've got to give me some warning."

The three of us stop in the room and face one another. A head of fluffy, short, blonde hair and large crystal blue eyes meet my gaze.

"Marianne?"

"Dawn?"

Bog's head swivels back and forth. "Ye two know each other?"

"Boggy, this is my sister I told you about," she says like that was a dumb question as she throws her hands in the air. "Wait a second. Marianne, what are you doing here?"

Bog jabs a thumb in my direction. "She's me before Verdun. She's gonna help us."

Dawn's eyes widen to impossible widths that I feared her eyes would fall out. "How did you..."

"I killed a Mimic, but never mind me, how'd you end up here? Last I heard from you, you were more about healing than being a mechanic."

"When I met Boggy, my knowledge in particle physics and advanced micro-biology was helping him figure out the Mimics' inner workings. No one understands their biology better than yours truly now."

"I remember that you were a top analyst for Whitehall. It was for that?"

Dawn shyly shrugs. "If I told you about working on the Mimics, you would have tried to find me and bring me home, away from the amazing yet dangerous research and... cute lab assistants." She trails off.

I huff as she goes off to the clouds. She's always had a problem with boys. After discovering Roland's adulterous ass, I worried for Dawn, but couldn't do anything to protect her since she was long gone from the States. But even before Roland, I worried about her working so close to the attacks. She's right. Had I known she'd been exclusively working on the aliens, I would have dragged her home.

"Anyways," she continues, "when trying to help Bog, others didn't understand my obsession, so now I'm a," her fingers make air quotes, "mechanic with psychiatric delusions."

"Enough," Bog gruffs.

Dawn jumps a bit. "Right. Okay, so when did she... die?"

"On the beach tomorrow," his accented voice states.

"What am I thinking of?" Dawn excitedly asks me.

I stare incredulously at her. "What? Um, a boy?"

"Blastomycosis*. So this is the first time we're talking about this."

Bog picks something up from the table across from us. "Ye should try this on her." With a click, multiple needles pop up from the wicked device. I flinch away from the armed man.

Dawn takes the object away and haphazardly drops it back on the table. "It doesn't work. Has she had visions yet?"

"Visions of what?" I ask.

Dawn smiles at Bog. "There's still time."

"Time? Look, sis, I'm sorry, but what is going on?"

"Dawn," Bog softly says. "Show her."

"Right." She pauses for a moment, suddenly wrapping her arms around my waist. "It's good to see you. I'm so sorry about the ass wipe. Never liked him anyway."

Bog clears his throat. Dawn shoots him a dirty look. The man, this stern tall perfection of masculinity, actually curls into himself. Dawn hesitantly lets me go and starts rolling the thick fabric on the table, revealing a glowing screen with the exosuit blueprints until she taps it away to bring up an image of a Mimic. With a wave of her hand, the image rises to a 3D hologram.

"First of all, you're not fighting an army. You have to think of them as a single organism." She points to the hologram. "These are common drones. The claws of the species."

"And the Alphas," Bog waves his hand over the table, changing the image to the alien of blue fire, "are more rare."

"Yeah," Dawn affirms. "They're like one in... 6.18 million, I guess." She gives me a shy smile, knowing that I find it so weird that she's a total nerd. "They act as the enemy's central nervous system, but this," another hand wave takes the Alpha away and in it's place puts a strange thing that definitely seems like it belongs to the aliens, "is the brain. It controls them all."

The base is circular with spikes meeting in the middle at different wicked lengths until they start to separate like a blooming mutant fly trap. Out of the middle floats a spherical object looking quite like a brain.

"This," Dawn points to the alien ball, " is the Omega. It has the ability to control time."

Bog pulls up a smaller image of the Alpha Mimic. "Whenever an Alpha is killed," he slams his hands on the table, the image disappears and bright lights where the Alpha was travel to the brain, then the Omega, "an automatic response is triggered. The Omega starts the day over again. But ye see," he becomes strangely animated as he points a long finger towards me, "this time it can remember what's going to happen just like ye do."

Dawn lays a hand on mine, almost somberly. "It knows what we're going to do before we're gonna do it."

Bog grunts. "An enemy that knows the future can't lose."

"But if that's true," I start, thinking about the sole victory us humans had, "how did you win at Verdun?"

Both pairs of blue eyes fall on mine. Bog licks his lips. "We were allowed to win. This thing," he motions to the Omega, "wants us ta think we can win. It wants us ta throw everything we have into the invasion. Operation Downfall isn't our endgame." Stormy blues gaze deeply into my own amber ones. "It's the enemy's."

Silence falls around the room as I take this in: Dawn being an expert on Mimics, Bog once having this very power I have, Verdun being a false win, the slaughter tomorrow the beginning of the end of all life on Earth.

"Marianne, try to understand," Dawn speaks softly, "this is a perfectly evolved world-conquering organism. For all we know, there are millions of those asteroids floating around in the cosmos like a virus. They're just waiting to crash land into a world with just the right conditions. All they need is the dominant life for to attack."

"And there'll be nothing ta stop the Mimics," Bog finishes, "unless ye can change the outcome."

"Me?" I reflexively ask. I'm not used to anyone really needing, much less, wanting my help.

Bog slowly nods. "When ye killed that Alpha, ye inadvertently entered the enemy's nervous system. Miss Fae, yoo've seized control of the Omega's ability ta reset the day."

"How's that possible? How did this happen to me?"

Dawn jumps on her feet. "Perhaps this organism's only vulnerability is humanity." She giggles.

The man purposefully ignores the bubbliness. "Regardless of that, ye control the power now. Just as Ah did in Verdun."

"Okay, I'm resetting the day." It's sinking in. "How do I control it?"

Bog looks to a now sullen sister who nods at him. He glances at me with a slow intake of breath. "Ye have ta die. Everyday. Until the Omega is destroyed."

I turn helplessly at Dawn. She refuses to look up from the world's most interesting floor it seems. I guess the idea of me dying everyday is difficult since we lost mom and dad. If I were to die for good, she would be alone, left to eventually die by the aliens. Knowing that her life is at stake, silent determination sets in.

"Have you told the general about this?" Maybe people to support us would help.

Bog firmly shakes his head. "I went ta see mum. Any number of times. Psyche ward. Dissection. Remember?"

A deep sigh leaves my body. "What are you expecting from me?"

"Have you seen anything strange?" Dawn asks, still not looking up.

My eyebrows fall. "Are you shitting me?"

"Visions," Dawn explains, glancing up now to point at the image of the floating brain ball. "Have you seen anything like that? The Omega can sense when it's losing control of its power."

"Even now it's mentally searching ta find ye." Bog states. "When it's close, ye will start having visions. Ye start ta see that. Yoo'll even see where it is."

I cock my head. "And you've had these visions?" Bog nods. "And eventually saw it. I mean, actually saw it."

The man grinds his teeth as his eyes downcast. "Never in the flesh."

"So, this is all some theory." Theories won't help save Dawn or the world. "You don't even know this thing exists."

"The visions showed me it was at Verdun." Bog firmly states, walking around the table to reach me, his hands waving about frantically. "Ah could see it. Ah...," he slows. "Ah just... lost the power before Ah could get ta it."

Dawn sighs. "By the time we took Verdun, the Omega was gone."

"So all I have to do is wait to have these visions and tell you where it is?"

"No, Miss Fae. Yoo're gonna get me there and Ah'm gonna kill it." His voice goes deep and dangerous, attractive.

Whoa now, Marianne. "Get you there?" I whisper, afraid my voice will crack under the pressure of his gaze. "I'm not even trained for combat."

Bog smirks.

}{

*Blastomycosis- _An infection caused due to Blastomyces dermatitidis, it predominantly affects skin, lungs and bones._


	6. Countless Resets

Three training floor Mimics come to life around me. One zooms right in front of me, curving behind while the other two spin on the machine's arms as they switch places with each other. The hazard yellow painted dull bladed arms open and close like crazy. I feel like a toy in a claw machine. One that could potentially harm me and I'm allowed the defend myself with only bullets.

I try to follow them, spinning around wobbly in my suit. I shoot, not even touching the damned things. I hear people yelling at me. Oops, I forgot that I don't have a fourth wall or that I'm not at the beach. Why Bog is training me on the floor where we're not even supposed to be while the machines are alive is beyond me. I can't let go of the trigger quick enough to prevent sending a spray of bullets near Bog, but he just turns his head to avoid sparks like he knew he wouldn't be hit. I'm that bad a shot? My suit is beeping at me. “Reload” it says. I press a button near my thumb and the empty magazine drops to the ground with a clank as a compartment on my leg hisses opens to present a replacement.

Pain shoots down my back as I fall to the ground. I wasn't quick enough or paying attention. Bog comes rushing in with his staff, hitting and disabling one machine with two strikes. As another comes rushing at him he deflects the arms, almost dancing his moves. I get to my feet as he runs toward me. As the machine swoops in low, he bends back so far he could win any limbo contest. While sliding past on his knees and shins, a quick turn of his foot and a firm push of a hand sends him back to a standing stance just as the final machine appearing from nowhere, but he jumps. He flies into the air with surprising grace and a spin his body, giving his staff wielding arm powerful momentum, knocking the machine across the floor.

In my direction.

It strikes me and I, in turn, go flying through the air. The pain blooms throughout my form until I hit a wall. Then, nothing. My head falls to my shoulder. I can't move it.

Bog stops fighting, turning to my fallen body. “Ye alright, Fae?”

“I think I broke something,” I explain, smacking my slightly tingly lips together.

“What?” he asks with a raised brow, approaching me.

Judging by how I can't move... “My back. The only thing I can feel are my lips.”

I watch his gaze fall on said body part for a moment before his head shakes and his eyes harden. “Now listen carefully. This is a very important rule,” he leans casually on his staff. “This is the only rule: Ye get injured on the field, ye better make sure ye die.”

“Why?” I ask, almost afraid to know but wanting to all the same.

Bog's head jerks away, staring at his feet. “Last time Ah was in combat, Ah was hit. Ah was bleeding out. Just not fast enough. Ah woke up in a field hospital,” his eyes turn back to me, “with three pints of someone else's blood and Ah was out.” He pauses, adjusting his stance. “Ah lost the power. Do ye understand?”

I let his words seep in. I have to be careful then about bleeding out. The world needs me to get Bog to the Omega. Yes, I understand what he has said. The unhooking of a gun jolts my attention back on Bog.

“Ah think we better start over, don't ye think?”

The barrel of the gun and Bog's apologetic face fills my vision and a gunshot blasts through my head. The memory of the pain wakes me up just as Bog's face rolls by yet again.

}{

After Marianne sneaks off from the push-ups once again:

“No one knows what happened to Private Fae?” Plum asks the platoon still pushing up their fifty Fae gave them. “Fang, you dumb goblin, she was right next to you and you telling me you don't know where that slippery imp went?”

Fang, his face red with twisted exertion and anger answers with gritted teeth. “No, Sarge.”

Plum rolls her shoulders. “Alright,” she pauses with an evil grin, “lets do another fifty, shall we?”

Fang glances at Brutus next to him. The large man groans and is far more cherry colored than Fang, looking sickly ill.

“And one!” The woman calls.

}{

I rush to Bog before he starts asking questions, placing my hands up in front of his chest, almost touching him in case I need to hold him back. “Wait, wait. My name is Marianne Fae. I- we met on the beach.” That sounds like I'm kinda coming on to him. Oh geeze. “We meet at the beach tomorrow. I have what you had.”

He pulls me aside, letting me explain what has happened before. As much as I'd love to see my sister again, I get straight to training instead of taking the drive to the suit repair building.

The deadly machines are coming for me again. I follow one only to turn and get hit by another. I never believed I could fly with my dark tattoo wings. Thankfully, nothing's broken except my pride. Rather, what's left of it at this point.

Bog sounds exasperated at the control strip. “Alright, let's go again.”

I stumble to get up and try to keep any eye out for all the machines this time, but... I'm soaring again. Bruised and battered, Bog stops the system to lecture me.

“Ye don't have time ta think,” the tall man waves an arm around, occasionally emphasizing his words by slamming the length of his hand in the palm of the other. “Remember, it's not enough knowing where they're going ta be, ye have to know how ta kill them.”

Sighing, I stand again, positioning myself in the middle of the floor. I open my mind, keeping a mental track of the machines. I release a round of bullets, actually hitting the thing a bit. Another comes flying from behind the damaged one.

The pain is immense as I lay on the floor, legs sprawled in awkward, impossible angles. Bog is strolling up, gun already drawn. That sad look evident on his face. I try to reason with him only because I don't like waking up to head shot pain and dealing with Sarge Sprite and her Plumette squad, but I quickly give up with a sigh, telling him to just do it.

I wake up, my blood pressure soaring high. And Sarge Maggot doesn't help anything as he kicks the bags.

I get to training under Bog's watch again, lasting a little longer than last time. Something comes to mind as I duck from a descending claw. I tell Bog to stop the system, which he does, though he's more than annoyed.

“I've been thinking.” I start, watching the powering down Mech-Mimics with a wary eye. “This thing's in my blood, so maybe there's a way I can transfer it to you.”

“Ah've tried everything, it doesn't work.”

“I mean, have you...,” I move my arms suggestively, “you know.” I know I'm blushing. I keep telling myself it's only because I can't do this, but seeing him in that muscle shirt... Focus Marianne. “Tried all... all the options?”

A deep red shadows his sharp features. “Oh, ye mean sex. N-no, Ah haven't.”

“Do you want to try?” I give a sultry smirk. Bad! Couldn't help myself.

The man stands there, stunned with very open expressions gracing his face. A heavy blush colors those sharp features before he slams a thumb into the power button. Air time and darkness....

I'm shooting at the damned mechs after getting back here once again. This time, Bog is shouting directions at me. “Left, left, left.”

I don't listen. A machine picks me up and slams me into a wall.

“Keep yer eyes open.” I hear as I fade away.

I'm trying again. Got hit. Again. Stabbed. Again. Crushed. Again. Snapped. Again. There came a day when I got hit by the machine, but I was perfectly fine. I was shot anyway. Maggot fills my every waking moment. Death and pain my last. Maggot. Bang. Maggot. Crunch. Maggot. Bang.

It's gotten to the point that I find myself starting to get numb to this whole ordeal, staring blankly at the bus every time I wake up. I never thought I'd get used to such pain and torment, but somehow I have.

“I'm trying to be nice to you, maggot! Now move.”

If only he knew what I was going through to save the world much less his sorry hide.

I get hit again on the training floor. Pain. Bog stops the machines and idles up, drawing his gun.

“Ye okay, Fae?”

I try to crawl away, tired of getting shot. “Oh yeah, I'm fine.”

“Yer leg is broken,” he factually states.

“No,” I quickly say. “I can still feel my toes.”

He catches up to me, not like there was any great amount of ground to be covered between us. Seeing no way out, I quickly give up.

I have a dream for the first time in months. It's glitchy, very much like the aliens' movements. Mountains. Nothing but snowy mountains as far as the eye can see until a dam appears. It seems like it's been unused for many winters, the water around it frozen and kind of grown over. The dream travels through the floors and hallways, the painted words on walls bear another language. Down. Deep. Deeper. A circular chamber at the end of a long hall. At the bottom, the Omega blooms.

I wake up.

I suffer the hassle of Plum and make my way straight to Bog, telling him to take us to Dawn. I had a vision.

“Boggy,” Dawn whines as she rushes down the stairs distractedly. “What is this? What are you doing here.” She pauses, staring at me as I remove the table top fabric.

“Hi, Dawn. Yes, nice to see you. I've got what he had. You're thinking of blastomycosis. I've had the visions. I've seen the Omega.”

Dawn freezes as the realization kicks in. She knows that I must have died several times before I finally got the visions. Shimmering eyes fall on the tall man for a second, then shakes her head. At first, scoffs of disbelief erupt from her girly self, then quiet grunts of anger, some despair, then she's holding me tightly. Her head is buried in my uniformed chest.

“I'm sorry.” That's all I could discern amongst the blubbering ramblings.

I hold her, wordlessly grateful for some kind contact after maybe several months equivalence of today's and tomorrow's hellish madness. “It's okay,” I whisper, stroking through her soft, fluffy hair smelling of motor oil and metal. “It's okay.”

“Ah'm sorry,” Bog clears his throat, “but if it's game over tomorrow, we might need ta... move this along?”

Dawn nods against my breast bone which slightly hurts as her forehead runs across it, but it's my sister. I could care less right now. After a while, she pulls away, wiping her nose and eyes on the long sleeves of her mechanic's uniform as she stand in front of the table.

“Okay,” she sniffles. “Where?”

I recall my vision. “There's a dam in the mountains. I saw German writing.”

“Do ye think ye can work out where it is?”

Dawn, after typing in what I just gave, looks to the Scotsman. “Well, I mean, there can't be too many places that fit this description. I'll see what I can do.” A minuscule smile graces her face, but that shiny sheen over her eyes betrays her.

Bog turns to me. “Training's over. Ah'll see ye tomorrow.” With that said, he begins to leave.

“We don't even know where we're going,” I call after him.

“We will soon enough. In the meantime, ye need ta figure out a way ta get us off that beach.” Then the bastard leaves.

I stay with Dawn. Jerk didn't say anything about following him. This gives us the chance to narrow down the list of places and corresponding pictures that show up on the screen. As the images load, we talk. We catch each other up in the other's life. I tell her about my job on the media that the news didn't cover. She has been sweet on a guy stationed on this base who has a bright disposition. I've sworn off love. She lectures me on that. We joke, laugh, even play around, though I know we're both anxious about this situation. I can see it plain as day in her face when she thinks I'm not looking. But it's been nice having some semblance of a normal day after that first day on the beach.

How many todays has it been? How many have I lived by now? I know I lost count after sixty-three. I'm just glad Dawn's here. I need to keep her in mind when I need a break from this hell's sentence. We didn't notice how late it's gotten until Bog comes back, damn near glowing under the fluorescents from a day of his own training. He takes me away from Dawn who does look very haggard. Worry never has looked good on her.

He leads me to a place where I can sleep and not get caught: an empty room by his. In fact, nearly the entire hall is unoccupied. The perks of being a general's son and a war hero, I suppose. I manage to get the best sleep I've had in months. De-stressing with Dawn and having my own room certainly helped without Brutus snoring louder than the dropships come morning light. Speaking of morning, I join Bog and his men on their dropship. I know what happens to it while I was with the Goblins, but I don't know where or when the issue starts. Getting at least Bog and myself to the ground unscathed for the most part took several resets. We stop behind a severely damaged ship once on the already battle worn beach. I'm trying to catch my breath. My body never gets the chance to grow since I live the same days over again.

“What's next?” Bog asks, a trickle of blood running down his temple and past his prominent cheekbones with a splatter of nicks covering his forehead. “Where are we going?” When I don't give an immediate answer, his voice starts insisting. “Which way? Focus. Which way?”

“I'm thinking.” I gasp around my heavy breathing.

That calms the Scotsman a bit. “Okay.”

A Mimic comes rolling through the gaping hole in the ship striking Bog and a cursing me.

When I reach Bog on the base and catch him up, he asks how far we made it. I never do have the heart to tell him my constant failures leading to our early deaths.

“It's hard to say, really.”

He always takes that answer.

I try to do better to not only have us survive, but to not disappoint him. On the beach, I give him directions almost constantly.

“Hold,” I firmly yell, waiting for the roaming threat to pass. “Okay, go!”

Bog runs past me, getting slammed into a dune by an alien.

“Son of a bitch.” The Mimic gets me.

Every time we make it to the room in the repairs building, I have him start memorizing the escape plan. I have to be careful when telling him what to do. The jerk isn't used to taking orders.

“I thought stepping to the left and ducking. Just for the record-.” I lightly mention.

“Right,” he says, getting annoyed.

“Stepping left, ducking right.” I say, making sure he says it with me.

“Stepping right-,” he begins by himself, but he realizes that's wrong. “Stepping... stepping left, ducking right.” Those eyes turn on me. “Move on.”

I notice how easier it has become to use the suit and how the chaos of the war doesn't affect me as badly. I access my over-the-shoulder cannons to fire at an enemy as Bog catches up to me.

“Hold on,” I say, stopping him from advancing. “Now, remember: across the trench, twelve o'clock, then look to your right.”

Nodding, he runs behind me as I mow down an onslaught of Mimics, keeping an eye on the war hero. He kills the alien hiding on the other side of the trench, but doesn't turn fast enough. I let myself be killed by the remaining handful of aliens.

“Yoo're not being specific enough,” Bog argues with me in the repairs room after I let slip that it's the little mistakes that kill us. “Ye understand? Ye need ta be specific otherwise Ah'm dead.”

That hits me like a ton of bricks from some reason. “Alright.” I say softly. “Bog....” I can't say anything else.

We're in a ditch, hiding behind metal panels that flew off the ships.

“Fae!” He yells, shooting a grenade at an approaching alien, but one attacks from behind the scraps.

“... races up to the top of the trench,” Bog recites in the darkened room. “Ah'm gonna step left. There'll be a Mimic there which Ah'll kill....”

I kneel next to his still body in the sand, blue eyes glassy. I don't even flinch when I die.

“Ships explosion. Ah'm gonna run thirty paces northwest.” Bog memorizes, but I can't help just listening to the sound of his deep accented voice and study every part of his face while he's still alive. “Ah'm gonna duck at the top of the trench and Ah'm gonna turn left.”

I'd give anything to run my hand along the scruff along his jaw without him possibly twisting my arm. Or to feel those malleable lips on mine. Even just to hold him, to wrap my arms around his small waist and fill all my senses with nothing but him.

He's dead, leaning against recently uncovered sandy boulders.

Next time I wake, I tell him I need more training. Anything to distract myself from him, yet I still find myself staring at him after disabling several Mech-Mimics fairly quickly.

“Is there something wrong with ma face?” His expression firm, almost angry. He's afraid to get hurt. Days of getting to know him taught me that.

“Absolutely nothing,” my words come softer than I anticipated.

He freezes, the harsh look loosening. We stare for a moment until he presses a button to call in more machines.


	7. Angst and Revelation

That night, I walk around the base in the pouring rain. The cold of the drops help me feel absolutely numb. I can't be feeling like earlier. I shouldn't. Every day I spend with Bog, I learn more about him than he probably knows. I've counted every stubborn whisker on his chin that doesn't obey the razor blade. I've studied how expressive his eyes are. I've seen his long sleek raven hair in so many ways. I know what emotion he's feeling just by his posture. I know how he does his best to lower himself to be eye level with those he talks to. I know so much and he knows nothing in return. I like him and I'm only a stranger.

“Fae!” I almost forgot about them as I turn a corner. “We've been looking everywhere for you.” I ignore Fang as he jogs up. I know Brutus is not far. “Fae.” He tries to grab me from behind, but I duck in time to avoid his grip.

“Guys,” I snap. “Could we just not do this today?”

They wouldn't understand what I meant. There's Fang's confused glare. “What are you talkin' about? Plum almost strung us up by our toes for losing track of you.”

He goes in for a punch. I step to the left and take a few steps back. “Okay, Fang. Watch this.” I place my clasp my hands behind my back. He smirks. “Now, I'm gonna close my eyes.” I do so and wait. “Ready?”

I know Fang is still grinning at the tease of getting a free shot at me before he throws a left hook. I step right, placing myself in front of a wall. He charges for me. I step left, slapping his back just hard enough to push him against the wall. The sound of a body hits wet asphalt. I glance at Brutus who looks very startled and pale, holding his hands up in surrender.

“I... I didn't mind the extra push-ups.”

I storm away from the two Goblins. Tomorrow is coming. I find the officer's area and my eyes land on something I haven't seen in a long time. Unbridled joy courses through my Mimic ridden blood.

The morning sun just peeks over the horizon, though the London clouds block most of the light. I don't care. I zoom around the near empty streets on the borrowed motorcycle. Everywhere I go, groups of survivors and refugees gather and wander. Military tents and vehicle litter the large expanses of sidewalks to aid the people. Never mind them, though. I spot a bar. With what change I found on the cycle, I got myself a drink. It won't be enough to mask the conflicted emotions I feel towards Bog and my swearing off love or the threat of the impending doom of this world should I fail. I'd need a lot more than a single drink. The owner has the radio on talking about the battle in France.

“-current situation on the front line. Our troops have suffered heavy casualties.” Heh, if they think that's heavy, wait til just a bit later when it becomes obvious to the higher ranks the gravity of this.

“It's about time we showed those things what we're made of.” An older British man grumbles to his friend. “My father flew in the Battle of Britain. Three years before the Yanks came into the war. Couldn't be broken. Backbone.”

I take a heavy swig. Knowing what I know, they seem like wizened gentlemen, but with this scourge, they're idiots. I bite back my tongue.

“My Uncle George landed on the beach at Normandy,” the guy's friend says. “In their day, this war would have been over by now.”

In their day, the tech they had wouldn't stand as much of a chance as now, but even then, we're barely getting by.

The owner's heels clack across the ground, her hair tousled from probably a rushed morning. “What do they want with us, anyway?”

“It's obvious, isn't it? Minerals.” One of the British men answer.

“Minerals?” The friend asks incredulously.

“Yeah, minerals. Metals.”

“Oxygen, they want.” An older man pipes up from the other side of the bar counter.

“Oxygen?” The 'minerals' man asks.

“Think about it,” the older man says.

I've had enough. “What different does it make?” The Brits fall silent. “They're here. They're winning. And whatever it is, they're gonna get it.” All because I can't seem to get Bog's plan right.

“Shouldn't you be over there?” Another older man murmurs. Honestly, I'm slightly happy he's taking the idea of a female soldier so gracefully. My father is most likely turning in his grave knowing that I'm doing a “man's job.”

“I've been over there.” I quietly answer him, knowing he won't understand, but I say it anyway and continue. “More times than anybody. As a matter of fact, I'm usually long dead by now.” I smile at my own macabre jest.

“Coward,” I hear someone say.

I grimace. If only they knew the real truth and the hardships I've gone through, but they don't know. They haven't learned what Dawn has figured out. They haven't killed an Alpha like Bog or I have. I take a cleansing sigh when the lights in the bar starts sparking and hissing. The patrons wonder at what's happening. The power's gone. A low rumble vibrates the floor, shaking the bottles in the place. Another louder one follows close behind it. Sirens sound in the distance. This can't be good. I bolt out of my stool and throw open the door glancing up and down the trash covered edges of the streets. A car turns the corner with a short siren bleep as the rumbles get larger, louder accompanied by alarms going off all around and an explosion way behind me somewhere.

I run along the streets, listening to people screaming, cars zooming, sirens and alarms ringing. Smoke rises in the horizon. I stop at a bridge, looking at the city down the river. Disrupting the water's surface are countless amounts of Mimics. It's when I realize that they're not just attacking the soldiers, but the places we've left undefended as well. It's really is the end if I don't do something. All these civilians, as ignorant as they are, will perish. There's no escaping this.

All I see is a screeching Mimic.

I wake and suffer the usual morning chore of being called a deserter and escaping the squads clutches. I tell Bog what he needs to know to not throw me out and lets me meet with Dawn. As the time inches by, she gets excited as she slides her fingers across the center table's screen.

“I've found the Omega. I found it. It has to be here.” Another swipe. “Curnera Dam, Germany. This has got to be it. It fits the description perfectly.”

“You found it,” I say monotonously. “Again.” I sigh. “What difference does it make? Cause we're never gonna get there.” I straighten myself up trying to ignore Dawn's fallen look and Bog's concerned eyes. “No matter what we do. No matter how carefully we plan,” I lean over the center table, hands firmly planted on it, “we can't get off that beach.”

I can't take their looks anymore. I let them know that I'm going to the floors.

I'm more like venting now. Round after round of fighting the machines, I notice the building go quiet. It must be getting late. Good. I scream as I attack now, yell when I land a hit, growl when I get hit. I'm a crazed banshee. Why can't I get better? I release a round on one mech until I see it come right at me. Scowling, I jump and throw all my weight into my fists, bringing the machine down to the floor and pelting it with punches, grunting with each blow. A double fisted hit to finish when I notice another coming my way, but I swat that away like a bothersome fly with Bog's sword that I borrowed. As it spins out of control, I unload bullets into it. Something sounds behind me. I pace away in movement similar to an ice skater as the second mech zooms to where I just was. I slide on the suit's feet, sparks flying until I stop and turn to shoot the machine down. It loses several claw blades. No longer much of a threat, I jump at it and stab the thing with Bog's sword. We slide across the floor until I crush it against the wall. Pay back's a bitch. A single punch and the machine sparks wildly.

My breaths come in heavily, my mind is used to this, but my body doesn't match. I see a figure at the control stations. Bog stands there in the shadows, looking at me like I'm dangerous. Not dangerous enough. I can't physically get better, stronger. I can't protect anyone. Not Dawn, not Bog, not even myself. How can I protect the world.

Snarling, I go back to hitting the machine around the sword, loving the flying sparks and metal thunks echoing with each hit. Bog's footsteps draw near. I pull out the sword and drive it high at the tall man with an unearthly growl. A metal clang echos in the entire building. His staff holds the sword inches from his face, his arms held above him as are mine, our bodies leaning towards each other. He looks around the floor littered with pieces of my metallic victims.

“Tough girl, ye can do this. Ye can.” He somehow knew my fears just by what I said earlier. “Ye keep coming here every day and Ah'll train ye.”

We're so close, we could kiss. Grunting, I remove the sword from his staff, staring at those blue windows and black strands. I shake my head gently with a smirk. “You already have.”

A quick inhale and I arc the sword at the final machine trying to sneak attack us.

}{

I soar through the air, crushing an alien until the inner fire dies and it curls up like a dead spider. Behind me, I hear Bog spinning in the air, the suit making his jumps ten times more powerful like mine. A clang of his staff and it snaps off several tendrils of another alien. Several more clangs at yet another Mimic, I turn to share a look with Bog. I run towards where he was while he soars into the air, flipping around, and striking the head off an unearthing alien. I, on the other hand, storm along the sand. A Mimic shoots several fire balls at me, but with the momentum of my walking, I fall and slide until the danger passes where I stand up and shoot the thing dead with over the shoulder weapons. It blows up like a firecracker.

I hear voices I recognize.

“I'm waiting, Stuff.”

“Five hundred meters and closing fast!”

I run to the ditch where the Goblin Squad sits, shooting at the Mimic hiding beneath their feet, running around them with ease unlike my first day. The Mimic, now revealed, tries to take some of the soldiers with it, but I keep shooting.

Stuff screams out. “What the-.”

Plum is panicking as sand flies everywhere.

I've gotten the alien's attention away from them as I run away from the ditch. It explodes through the sandy mound to follow me, but Bog lands just behind it. A quick strike of his staff to it's head and it's down while I shoot other Mimics. Before my suit has a chance to say “Reload,” I've already got the new magazine in and slide down a mound to punch a rolling alien. Bog appears next to me, attacking one that was in my blind side. The alien I'm still with pulls us through sand where I'm still punching until Bog comes in a throws a solid blow. We take a collective breath, huffing and puffing as we lean on our knees.

“What's next,” Bog gasps, using his staff to keep him upright.

I pull the sword out from Bog's sheathe on his back and stab the writhing alien. Bog's punch knocked it out, but didn't kill it. Well... now it's dead.

“Straight shot up the hill,” I finally answer.

Bog nods giving me the okay to continue on. I can't help but smirk as I hear the squad converse amongst themselves.

“Hey, Sarge, the new gal,” Thang starts. “What's her name again?”

Call me a deserter now, I think with a heavy smirk.

}{

We sit next to a rotting deck on a grassy hill overlooking a small trailer park cemetery. A desolate playground and whirligig ride lay abandoned. Last night's rain traveled to here where the ground is too soft and sticky. Small fires burn here and there due to stray fire balls or grenades. Smoke columns billow in the morning sky all around us.

“We'll need a vehicle to get further inland.” I say after finally getting a quiet moment.

“What's the problem?” Bog asks.

“The problem,” I inhale, “is the ambush waiting for us down there. They kill us before we find a working car.”

Bog's anxious. “Okay. So, what's the current plan?”

“Two cars we haven't tried yet. The minivan and the green SUV.” Bog acknowledges the both of them. “I'll head for the SUV, draw the Mimics to me. You for the minivan. You get it started, just go, take off. Do not wait for me.” Bog moves to get going. I stop him by grabbing his hand and pulling him down. “Whoa, just don't forget to disconnect the caravan before you take off. You are going to be in a hurry, you don't want any dead weight.”

Bog understands, but rolls his eyes and cracks his neck, clearly annoyed with hearing orders. With a nod of my head, we both head down the hill and head straight for the vehicles. His suit's running thumps overpower mine, but I drag the sword across scraps and push a car out of my way, glass shattering and metal groaning. I get to the SUV, punch the window in, and pull off the door. I lean in to find a backpack, unable to get to the zipper, I just rip the thing open unleashing all it's contents on the muddy ground, grabbing a few small items. Not far, I can hear Bog starting the minivan, but following the turned over vehicle comes the faints screeches of the aliens. A low rumble very similar to what happened while I was in London rolls through the thick air. As a cell tower falls in the distance, Bog honks the horn to get my attention. I run to where he'll be coming up.

He kicks off the passenger door. “Come on, Fae!”

I hop in, looking back at the SUV and beyond. The radio drones as I try to look behind us as Bog drives off. I complain about not seeing just as he swerves around the tight corners, throwing me around in my seat. I almost start complaining even more then, but I stop and continue glancing back. The radio continues talking. I watch the trailer get hit with RV's and decks while Bog maneuvers us out of the car park and unto the main road.

“The enemy has reached London. Repeat: London is under attack.”

I punch the radio in. I already know what's happening there. Bog doesn't. He silently judges my action.

“Good driving,” I murmur.

He turns his attention back on the road. “Ah forgot to unhook the trailer.”

Just then, a Mimic explodes out of the road and through the trailer. It's tendrils stabbing though the glass in order to reach us. I unleash a round. Bog just sits there and drives as if none of this bothers him. The alien grabs the back end of the van and sends out a couple tendrils through the front windshield. Bog lets out a grunt. Time to get rid of this. My thumb hits a button to engage my over-the-shoulder weapons which rips the top of the van off as I stand in my seat. I shoot at the Mimic with my arms guns and aim the shoulder weapons at the second one just appearing. That one implodes, burning the rest of the trailer to pieces.

The menaces dealt with, I disengage the shoulder weapons and lower my arms on the top of the van, laying a bit on it as Bog swerves the van to unhook the remains of the trailer and aliens. Eventually, I sit back down and rest while Bog drives down the destitute highway.

After a few miles of silence, I decide to start a conversation.

“You don't talk much.” I point out, looking out at the passing lands.

Bog sharply inhales. “Not a fan.”

“Of talking?”

“Not a fan of talking, no.”

I glance at him. “You know you eventually do talk to me. It's usually around Lyons. You tell me about the time you went there with your family. You got lost.”

Bog cracks his neck. “Ah've never been to Lyons.”

I still push. “You tell me your real name.” I pause to make him slightly squirm. “Boggart.”

He laughs. “That's not ma name.”

We both smile. It looks good on him.

“Your parents find you in the arcade, by the way.”

He scoffs. “Maybe Ah made it all up just ta keep ye quiet.”

“But you do talk to me.”

A heavy sigh. “Fae, Ah do not need ta get ta know ye. And if ye knew what was good for ye, ye wouldn't want ta get ta know me either. It's the only way ye make it through this thing.”

I know I shouldn't but in for a penny, in for a pound. “What about Angela? You get to know her?”

I watch his reaction. His face goes neutral, then slightly tenses back up as he turns his head.

“How do ye know that name?”

“You mentioned her,” I answer.

He snaps it back to the road. “That's not possible.”

“Then how do I know her name?” I murmur.

“When did Ah mention her? Under what circumstance?”

I don't answer right away, but he's waiting. “Is she why you won't talk to me?”

Bog sits there for a moment, not saying a word. With a roll of his shoulders, his face sets into a mask. “Don't ever mention her name again.”

“Why? Are you in love with her?”

“She's dead.”

I never learn. Painful memories cut across his features.

“And watched her cheat on me and later die three hundred times and Ah remember every detail.” His beautiful voice cracks along with my heart. “Ah remember everything. So Ah don't need ta talk about it.”

I feel bad now, but at least I know more about him which will only fuel my desire to keep him alive.

“I'm sorry,” I nearly whisper.

Bog clicks his tongue. “It's just war.”

A soft beeping alarms us about low fuel.


	8. Please Listen to Me

The van sputters it's last breath as the sun glows orange in the horizon. Bog spots a house across a few fields to our left. Nodding silently, I step out of the dead vehicle, following Bog's stride. Not even half way past the first field, Bog's suit dies as well. He sheds out of it and keeps walking, staff on hand and sword on his back. I keep up in my suit, even walking ahead, but I notice the lag in my own suit. Sure enough, my suit's battery is drained. I unlock myself out and slide off the arm's gun. Still has some use.

Bog leads the way across the remaining fields, pushing aside overgrown plants with his staff. When we reach the house, I take point since I have the gun and open the front doors. No one has lived here since the war started years ago. Dust layers over everything. Some windows, broken in due to storms, allows leaves to blow in and collect in corners. Everything is left as it was since the owners moved or passed away. Each room full of clutter and a sense that people did used to live here, but the stillness of the entire home is off-putting. Glass creaks and leaves crunch under our boots as we roam about.

“There's nothing here,” Bog states after we explore each room. “Let's keep going.”

He finds a workhouse in the backyard in worse shape than the farmhouse. I follow him in after he opens the groaning wooden doors. Inside, a dusty red car and all kinds of tools and work tables occupy the space. He notes another door to the side. It creaks as he pushes it open.

On the other side lay a section of land overgrown with weeds and decorated with old human things. Sitting in the middle of the area is a two person helicopter. Bog sets his staff by the door and rushes to air vessel as I lag behind, gun in hand. He pulls down the cover on the front and peers into the dusty glass.

“We have ta find the keys.” He looks to me before walking around the heli console.

“Let's just siphon the gas,” I offer.

The man groans a bit as he leans into the vehicle. “Why drive when we can fly?”

I raise a brow at him and the sneak peek of his trim stomach. “In that thing?”

He straightens up, walking around the vessel. “Let me guess, yoo're afraid of heights.”

“I'm afraid of crashing. And not at all ashamed to admit it.”

Bog grins at me as he passes. “You'll be fine, Fae. You'll learn.” He reaches up to slip the blade protectors off when he makes a different groan and switches arms.

I shift my weight to another foot. “What is it?”

“It's nothing. Ah'm fine.”

He's trying to dismiss me and whatever's wrong. I walk up to him. “What is it?” I ask again.

“It's nothing,” he says softer.

I reach forward and grab his good wrist. “Bog.” His body is tense until I rub the back of his hand with my fingers. “Let me see.”

He hums in defeat and flutters his eyes closed as his hand slips out of mine and zips down his dark jacket. I walk around to help him peel off the sticky fabric which pulls a pained sound from his lips. He must have gotten hit in the van as the wound is still too fresh for a morning scuff. The white tee he's wearing is bloody around the injury.

“Come on,” I say, finding his good arm and pulling him towards the workhouse.

He doesn't say a word, but he obediently follows and lets me guide him to a chair. I'm tempted to tell him to stay, but I want to remain on his good side right now. I find a small red first aid kit pouch, an aluminum carafe, coffee grounds, and a few small other things. First, I start a fire in the pipe stove and start brewing some coffee while I work on Bog's shoulder. At first, he firmly objected to anything but me patching him up as I was gathering more than the kit. He even impatiently peeled off his white ruined shirt. I made sure not to glance in his direction and ignored his protests against the beverage. Instead, I once placed the carafe near the gentle fire, I walk behind his chair and slap him upside the head. He certainly wasn't expecting that and I've been meaning to get back at him for all those resets he put me through. It's a small victory that leaves the Scot grumbling under his breath as he slumps in the chair and a small smirk on my lips as I open the kit.

Then, I note the entire expanse of the bare torso before me and my heart flips. Inching down the long sinuous neck are much finer locks of black hair. It looks so soft, so tempting to run my fingers through. It's unfair that a rough man should have such feathery hair. The neck flares out near the shoulders, the gentle raise of muscles revealing how stressed he is judging by the uncomfortable firmness. The tenseness continues along his spine and spreads it's painful reach over his ribs. A good rub down and maybe some nibbles would start to relax those muscles.

I push those dark, yet pleasing thoughts aside to truly notice the artwork on that glistening canvas. Someone has manages to capture the graceful iridescence of dragonfly wings, but also poured in a lot of badassery with the tattered edges and ripped holes. They seem so capable of flight with a simple flex of his arms and back. Mine are forever at rest along my back and hips. His are so beautiful and fitting as two of them reach across his shoulders with elongated wing joints and idle down his arms while the other two stretch past the waist band of his pants. I'd love to see just how far down they go.

Almost absentmindedly, I lick my lips as I study the damage done by the aliens. It's not terribly bad, but it's still needing tending to. I rip open an alcohol wipe and dab at the skin as best I can with the squirming man-baby hissing and muttering words I can barely understand due to his brogue. Several bloodied wipes and pained grunts later, I place a large sterile pad on the injury and tape the edges down. I make sure to gently rub the tape down to... ensure that it'll stay. Not finding any excuse to continue touching him whatsoever.

“We have ta find the helicopter keys,” he murmurs drowsily.

My pocket burns as I glance around the workhouse. “I'm sure they're around here somewhere.” I look back at my gentle ministrations on his shoulder. “You know, the heli is full of fuel. I found a hose.”

Bog angles his neck to give me a firm icy stare. “We're flying, Fae..” He turns away, a silent command to stop touching him.

I pull away and rise to my feet. “Let's just say we find the keys and get that helicopter started.” I pull out a small drawer nearby and pick up a fairly clean spoon, taking the time to tap off any dirt or dust. “We don't have our jackets or ammunition. It's gonna be dark in a few hours. We might be better off going back to the farmhouse.” I squat down next to a quiet Bog. “See what we can salvage. Spend the night there and be back here in the morning.”

“Curl up by the fire and open a bottle of wine,” Bog jokes monotonously.

I throw him a “why not” smile before turning my attention to the low table. I smile wider when he wheezes out a chuckle until I hear a familiar metallic click. The moment I see the barrel in my direction, I verbally freak out, flinching and pushing the dangerous end of the gun away from my face.

“Ah think we should just reset. It's a dead-end.” I'm still trying to keep the gun away. “If it's all the same ta ye, Ah'm tired, Ah'm in pain, Ah'd rather just start fresh,” he whispers.

“I tell you what, you take a few minutes. Coffee's ready.” I see the slight flicker in his eyes. “I'll look around for the keys. That's productive.” I get back to my feet and step to the stove.

“Ten minutes,” Bog announces as I walk by, putting his gun away. I smile. “Then, Ah'm killing ye.”

I face him as I pour the coffee. “Fine.”

He breathes deeply then scoffs as he shakes his head. “Ah can't believe ye found coffee.”

I say nothing as I hand him the mug. He gives me a soft thanks, but I almost forgot. I get back to the low table, squatting down again. “Sugar, right?”

Bog silently nods and holds out his cup. I rip open two packets I collected from the backpack earlier and pour them into the dark drink. Once empty, I pick up the spoon and give the liquid a few stirs, smiling at Bog who grins back and gives out another chuckle.

“Thank ye-”

“Ah, hold on,” I raise a finger before he can take a drink, reaching for another packet. “Three. You like three.”

I repeat the process, but when I look up, the mirth in Bog's face has fallen significantly. Shit. I messed up. I know I did just by his steady stare as he's trying to piece together the puzzle I accidentally set before him. I have to look away otherwise those blue eyes would end my resolve then and there. I ease back on my feet and walk away.

“There's a shirt over there. It should be your size,” I murmur, pointing at a cluttered table past the dusty car as I start opening drawers and briefly peek inside. I listen to him getting out of the chair.

“How many times have we been here?” He asks softly. I lazily close a drawer and turn to him, not sure how to answer. “How many times?” I think I have something to say, but he continues. “Where are the keys?” I don't want to answer him, but I think he can see my hesitation. “Where are the goddamn keys?”

“Okay, okay.” I pull them out of my burning pocket, dangling them from my fingers.

He snatches them from me, putting them in his fist, holding a bandaged finger at me. “Ye can fly it, can't ye?”

“No,” I instinctively say, but that look he gives. “Well, yes. I mean, I can take off, but I'm still working on my landings.”

Bog storms away, gathering his black jacket in a hurry. “What are we still doing here? Yoo're wasting time.”

“Bog, if you start that engine, you die!” I've moved only a step since he began walking away and now I feel that the distance is far too great with how I feel when he turns around halfway into his jacket with a look of shock opening his face. “This is as far as you go. No matter what I do. This is as far as you ever make it.” If I were to speak any louder, I know my resolve would crack. Please listen to reason, I mentally tell him.

But the shock disappears as he shoulder the other half of his jacket and slams open the wooden side door. I chase after him as he approaches the heli. I stop just short of the aircraft as he prepares it.

“There's a Mimic buried twenty yards away,” Bog glares at me for a moment, “and it attacks when you start the engine.”

“Get your weapon and get in the helicopter, Fae.”

“There's more in a field back there,” I motion uselessly and walk around to the cockpit as he arrives. “Only one of us ever makes it.”

He climbs into the seat. “Get in,” he gruffs.

I have to keep trying to reason with him. “There only thing we haven't tried is a version where you walk away. We just go back to the farmhouse. There's a cellar, there's food.” I hear him shove the key into the ignition. “You wait there till I get back. You'll be safe.”

“Ah'm a soldier, Fae,” he states, looking up from the console and ducks his head out the heli. “Ah volunteered. Ah'm not walking away.”

“You die here! Right here.” Bog shakes his head at my words. “I can't save you. And if I go on and kill the Omega, you're dead. Forever.”

Bog ducks his head out again. “Why does it matter what happens to me?”

My resolve is gone. I rush forward and grab his jacket collar, pulling him out of the cockpit. Without a moment of hesitation, I press my lips to his, answering him with my hungered actions. At first, he doesn't respond though out of instinct, he lays his hands on my waist. I may have overstepped my boundaries, but at least he knows the truth now.

“I'd say,” I whisper between my kisses, “that I wish I didn't know you, but you're the best thing to ever happen to me and I wouldn't wish it away for anything.”

With a softer peck, I start to lower myself off my tip toes when his grip hardens. I look to see that his eyes are closed but his lips are open, haggard breathing pushes past them. I want to say something, but I'm afraid any word will break the spell between us and I don't want to lose this closeness I've been craving for so long. He's so warm and despite the sweat from battle, he smells so comforting. Like a place I can always run to, a safe haven, a home. I want him to feel the same with me. I want to keep him safe and alive. If he'll just listen. Maybe another answer to his question.

I raise myself up again and place a lighter kiss on his bottom lip. “Please,” I whisper over his mouth. His grip tightens even more, a low groan rumbling in his broad chest. “I do know you.” A kiss on his upper lip. “Don't make me lose you.” A sneaky tongue traces along his crooked teeth.

That's when he ducks his head towards mine and overtakes my lips with his own. It's firm and hungry and rough, but I'm loving every moment, especially as he growls against me. Honestly growls. Oh, I could die right now and be happy with resetting. He kneads at a spot on my back that leaves me moaning and he claims my open gasping mouth as his own. He's swallowing me whole and I can only take what I can as well. My hands leave his jacket and place themselves in different areas: one around his neck so I can grab that tempting hair, the other curled around his back under the jacket so I can feel the bare skin there. Oh god, he's perfection. I moan into his mouth and lightly rake my nails along his spine. He pulls away and gasps like a drowning man next to my neck.

“Mar...,” he breathes.

He's never said my first name before. I suddenly need to hear him say it just for me. I drag my nails again from the base to as far up as I can reach. His knees buckle and his breath is caught in his throat. To help him, I gift him with open mouth kisses on his neck with a few small nips. Air instantly rushes into him and lets out as a long low moan.

“Marianne....”

Perfect. I give another nip and pet along his spine with a small pleased grin. He moves so fast I don't register what's happening until I feel the pain begin to bloom. His lips mold around my neck and his teeth dig into my skin and his tongue flicks against the sensitive muscle. I can't hold back my moan right next to his ear.

“Bog,” I whisper, “please stay.”

He slowly pulls away to look at me. I can see the effect this has had on him. Those lips even more full after such sinful use, his hair falling around his face in a seductive way, and his eyes stormy with the same hunger I feel in my bones. The longer I look, the more it's starting to fade away into something apologetic.

Oh god, no. Before I can act, he pushes me away and sets himself in the heli, abruptly giving it life from it's long rest. The blades slowly build up speed as I get to my feet and bolt to the workhouse. Several fire balls shoot out from the before mentioned alien as it rises out of the ground. I hear it screeching as I make it to the workhouse.

My gun, where's my gun? There. The heli crashes in through the roof, sending splinters and shards everywhere as I finally set the gun in place. A quick burst of bullets and the thing screams, but the heli doesn't stay still. I move out of the way, barely missing the tail end as I roll over the dusty car. The heli crashes and bounces a few times due to the still whirring blades. I shoot at the damned alien which thrashes around, hitting and turning the car. To avoid much damage, I hop on the hood as it continues forward right through a brick wall until it suddenly stops due to debris. I'm thrown off and roll on the ground until I find myself again. My legs don't want to work. I fall to the ground a couple times, stumbling around until I spot a familiar handle. I grab the sword, using it to keep me upright until I get back to the remains of the workhouse where the alien is trying to right itself.

Screaming, I slice the fucker with Bog's sword and stab it to the ground as it's life fire fizzles out. Slightly limping, I walk to the severely damaged heli, resting a hand on it's shell as I view what's before me just around the corner: a leg bent horribly wrong. Oh no. I limp to him, falling to my knees unsure of what to say. His blue eyes reveal his fear of this death as he raises a hand from the scrapped ground. Without waiting, I take it with both my hands knowing that tears are falling freely now.

His mouth tries to form words. “My real name... is Rodric,” he barely manages to say.

His body slightly shakes as it shuts down. In the distance, the group of aliens I mentioned crack something apart as Bog releases a grunting sigh. His head falls to the side, eyes half open. Still teary eyed, my trembling fingers leave his still hand to close those fading eyes. I can't help but choke on a sob as a wall of Mimics crash their way to us.

I don't register the pain as I wake up this time. Bog's death took something from me. I feel so empty, so cold. I feel so tired.

Even as Sergeant Maggot yells at me to get up, my mind makes my body feel the aches I've witnessed these past months of todays. When I reach for my clothes in the man's hands, he doesn't say another word to me. I guess the empty look on my face is pretty strong right now. I step away from him and wait for Plum to make her appearance. She doesn't give me a second glance and begins her spiel as normal. I'm able to focus enough to get away from the squad again and reach Bog in the training building.

I watch him staring at me as I calmly approach him despite the raging mechs as he idles his body down from the parallel yoga position to a cobra. Once I get close enough, he hops to his feet, annoyance clear on his face. His eyes unknowing of who I am just yet.

“Yes?” He gruffs, moving closer to intimidate me. “Who said ye could talk ta me?” I stare at him for a moment, but I have to look away. It hurts to see the lack of recognition. “Is there something wrong with my face, soldier?”

An idea pops into my head. “No. I'm... sorry to disturb you, Sergeant,” I say softly as I step back and turn away.


	9. I'm Better Alone... or Not

I suffer the consequences of getting away when I get back to G squad. I'm in pain from the extraneous punishment, but at least I can feel something other than that terrible emptiness. I even manage to sleep past Brutus' snoring for once. As the morning hour approaches, I'm already awake. The only one right now. I use this moment of peace to think about my plan.

Not long after, the alarm sounds and soldiers are shouting orders. Everyone's stumbling to their feet to get in line. I'm already there, waiting. I'm gonna be doing a lot of that until I get to the beach. I know, as we reach the suits, Bog will already be in his and heading to his dropship. I let myself be led into my own suit. Thang is helping me in. As if I need it.

“Alright, girl, let's get this show on the road. I've got to suit up.” He guides my hand to the arm handle, but I position my hand the way I've gotten used to doing it. His face scrunches as he looks up and notices something. “Where's your helmet?”

I crack my neck, a habit I've picked up from somewhere, as I look far down at the bug-eyed man and speak almost menacingly. “Never wear one. It's a distraction.”

Thang glances around us and lowers his voice. “Have you been drinking?”

I ignore him as I look over my suit's inventory. “I'll need three more clips of 5.56, eight grenades, and an extra battery.”

Thang just stares at me. Plum's big talk about me not belonging doesn't fit my current actions. To him, I should be as I was when I first got hooked up into the suit, but I'm acting like I'm a pro. It's not clicking in the simple man's head. I stare back at him for a bit.

“Get it,” I say.

He finally nods and silently gets what I asked for, looking back occasionally as if it's maybe or a joke or a dream of his own. I don't pay any mind though. In fact, I don't pay any mind to everything else going on around me as the rest of the squad gets suited up and finally heads to our ship. I get hooked in and wait for the ascent. My mind is going into battle mode now. All the things that has gone wrong in my life, everything that's made me rage, that's made me change, all of it my fuel to finally get to the dam. No more nonsense.

Fang starts with his little joke with a big grin. “Oi, mate. I think there's something wrong with your suit.”

I glare at him. “There's a dead guy in it.”

That shocks him and the others into silence. Good. I don't need anymore heat.

As soon as the bottom of the ship opens, I release myself. I'm not saving anyone. I get to the ground and actually have a moment to breathe until Brutus makes it, whooting and hollering. There's plenty of time to have pushed him out of the way, but I just stand there and turn away after the ship falls on him. I storm away, ignoring everyone around me. I have a van to get to. Without Bog, I get there in record time. After unhooking the trailer and avoiding the aliens, I relax during my drive until the fuel gauge runs low and the farmhouse is in sight.

Before getting to the house, I replace my battery and reload my weapons. Soon, I'm dashing through the fields to get to the workhouse and get the heli keys. The little jingle of metal reminds me of Bog when he grabbed them right out of my hands. Before he got killed. Snarling, I burst out of the workhouse and throw a grenade at the buried alien and raining hell upon the mess of them waiting further back. I turn everything around us to nothing but a cackling flame. I'm worn and tired. I've never gotten this far by myself, but I push through, punching the last surviving Mimic to death.

I lose the heavy suit and finally get in the aircraft to head for the dam. From France to Germany, no problem. Plenty of fuel. I try everything not to daydream or stray my thoughts. I don't need to feel anything except this burning rage at the invading race. As the air gets colder and mountains rise in the horizon, I know I'm close. I've seen this landscape nearly hundreds of time by now. I pass by a few mountains and lo, the dam.

Cautiously, I land on an open pad and check my weapons. I don't know what to expect, but it can't be easy. I stroll across the walkway to some double doors, checking left and right for any danger. Nothing. I see stairs, though. Pulling out a flare, I activate it and toss it down, pointing my rifle for any alien alerted of my presence. Nothing still. It could be a sense of false security. I stay on guard as I pass down flight after flight. At the bottom, I continue down an industrial hallway until the flare's light can no longer help me. At a corner, I activate another one and toss it down this hall. I keep waiting for something to show, but again, nothing.

I keep this up, avoiding using a flare unless I need to and traveling down, down, down. The air is wetter and a little warmer. Water puddles on the ground now which I avoid for stealth and that's when I see the circular walled area I keep seeing in my vision. The Omega is just down there. I carefully step closer to the broken rails and grated walkway. I can kill it and it's still early. I can save everyone else still alive. I can only hope Bog has made it this long. I hold my breath and aim over the edge.

There's nothing there.

The Omega's not here. It can't be. This is the right place. I know it is. I can't be wrong.

A Mimic appears from below and swats me back. My rifle falls over the edge and into the deep below. Laying on my back, I get hit again landing further down the hall. I need to die. My grenades... they're by the Mimic. It took them off me as it kicked me away. Fine, I'll just let the thing kill me. I stand and wait for it to attack. But it doesn't. It screeches at me, flailing it's tendrils, but not moving to kill me. It's charging now.

“Finish it,” I yell, hoping to further provoke it, but it stops. Screeching again. Why won't it kill me?

A thud sounds behind me. An Alpha slinks down from the ceiling and inches toward me with heavy thumps, it's low rumbling noise filling the entire hall accompanied by the higher screeching of the drone. It dawns on me. The Omega was never here. This was all a trap. To stop the intruder in their system.

Shit. I take out my handgun and aim for my head. The Alpha strikes at my hand just as I pull the trigger. The bullet completely misses. I stare at the bigger alien when I hear a steady drip. I'm slowly bleeding out from where the jagged tendrils of the Alpha hit me. This was it's plan all along. To kill me slowly. To dry me out. I can't let this happen. I'm the world's only hope. I'm starting to feel cold in my fingers and toes as I survey my surroundings. There must be something I can do. Those pipes at the side wall. Water. Drowning. What a horrible way to die. I stare at the blue alien growling at me. I make my move.

I duck under the pipes to get away. It's angry now. It smashes the metal unleashing a sudden onslaught of water which quickly fill the area I'm crawling under. It's in my lungs. I can't breathe anymore.

I wake up.

}{

I catch Bog up as we reach the repairs room with Dawn. Told him all that's happened. When we start to tell Dawn, she's visibly upset.

“What do you mean the Omega is there?”

“My guess is it never was,” I state to my little sister.

“They knew we were coming,” Bog says to back me up. I couldn't tell him that I never took him to the dam. I just couldn't tell him that he'd die if I took him. That I left him. “They ambushed us. The visions were a trap.”

“Just like Bog's vision were a trap at Verdun,” I softly say as Bog looks at me. “It could have killed me, but it didn't. It was after my blood.”

Dawn wrings her hands and runs them through her hair. “So they know who you are. They... they want their power back.”

Bog interjects, “And they're gonna get it one way or another. Unless we find the Omega.”

Dawn smushes her hands on her cheeks. “There isn't any other way. We're finished.”

“No, we're not finished,” Bog firmly states, pointing to the wicked device he thrust in my face the first time we met with Dawn.

“It's doesn't work. I-I can't get it to work.” My poor sister looks so forlorn.

“You built a prototype at Whitehall,” Bog reminds her.

“Yes,” she nearly screams, “and I got fired for it, thank you very much.”

I pick up the thing and get a good look at it. The base is rectangular while the top where the multiple needles come out of is cylindrical. “What is this thing?” I ask my sister.

“It's a transponder,” she says, exasperated and annoyed. “You stick it into the Alpha and it taps into the wavelength connecting it to the Omega. That's the idea of it anyway.” She throws her hands up, “but I can't get it to work. Not with the equipment I have on-hand.”

I take another look at the transponder, then back at her. “How do we get you what you need?”

“Well, that's the thing,” Dawn starts, “I mean, when I was at Whitehall, I built one. I was even ready to test it, but when I told my superiors about it, I lost my job.” She glares daggers into Bog who turns to me.

“They thought she was crazy.”

“So all we need to do is get into Whitehall,” I state.

Bog's eyes silently communicate with mine as Dawn continues talking.

“She'd be arrested ten feet from the door.” The punishment for deserters, but our silent communication leads to us starting to walk out. “Psych ward, dissection, remember? Hey, hey, aren't you forgetting something?” We both turn to Dawn who looks terribly wrecked. “The transponder requires a live Alpha to make this work.”

“We don't need one,” Bog says, tapping me on the shoulder. “We got the next best thing.”

With that, we both turn and walk away. Sorry Dawn, I think to her as we head to the surface.

}{

“When the Chinese delegation comes out we pick up the pace.” I tell Bog when we make to the street across from Whitehall after a few tries.

As a couple SUVs come around and park, we walk through them. “This guy with a yellow armband always recognizes you, so keep your head down, slouch, and stay to my right.”

Soldiers stand at attention as the Chinese delegation comes out followed by the man I just mentioned. I can sense Bog doing his best to hide his height and practically hide behind me. I make sure to look at the uniformed man to make his gaze suddenly awkward. Thank goodness for weird social quirks. When we pass by, I give a small compliment to Bog. We enter through the doors and turn right, people are crawling around the hall, but we've had enough resets that I know what to do. We wait at the end of the hall as I softly count down from three. On go, we start walking, my hand firmly on Bog's forearm.

I count our seconds. At seven, an elevator opens and we backtrack into it after the person inside walks out to avoid Red Berets coming out of a room. At twelve, they pass and we exit the lift before it closes making sure to follow a soldier on a mobile device. Fifteen seconds is when the man remembers something and turns around just as I spin Bog around with a snap.

“Keep walking.” I tell him softly. “Just straight ahead.”

I know a woman we just passed might have caught us, but I also know that someone inside the room she just came out of calls her back in, taking the attention of us. This detailed stealth mission continues until we finally get to the general's office. As we open the doors, I hear her grating voice across the room.

“I've asked not to be disturbed. This had better be critical.”

“The fate of mankind,” I snark, still very upset at her for what she did hours earlier when it's been far far longer than that for me. “Critical enough?”

“I don't believe what I'm seeing,” she murmurs.

I walk right up to her desk, “I've had more than my share of that.” I push her chair away from her desk.

“Sit down, mum. Stay away from the desk,” Bog sneers at his mother as I sit on the edge. “Ah'd take her very seriously if I were ye,” he nods to me and I can't help but grin.

Griselda sits down as her son has mentioned. “Have to hand it to you, Major. When you left this office today,” like I left on my own volition, “I'd never imagined you'd be back. Not alone with my most decorated soldier and precious son.” She glares at her son as if he betrayed her.

I roll my eyes and settle onto the desk a bit more. “I'm gonna tell you a story, General, and at first it's gonna sound ridiculous, but the longer I talk, the more rational it's going to appear.” I reach for her desk phone just before it starts ringing, picking the receiver up from the holder after it's first trill. “Tell them you'll call back.”

“Tell who?” she asks quietly.

“Major Generals Greune, Vol, and Rogue, calling from Halifax. Their plane's just been delayed. Bad weather.” I hold out the phone which the general snatches from my hand to listen to the person on the other end.

“Yes,” she starts. After a bit, Griselda speaks. “Thank you, Vol. I'll call you all back.”

She lowers the phone, which I take back and hang up to continue my speech practiced from several tries. “Tomorrow's invasion is a slaughter. I'm dead within five minutes of landing on that beach along with every other solider you are sending. That's because the enemy know we're coming. How do I know this? Before I died I killed a Mimic, only this one was different. It passed something on to me. In my blood. Now I live the same day over and over again. Just like they do,” I turn to Bog. “Just like Sergeant King at Verdun,” I stand up to walk around the desk to the same chair I sat in that earlier morning. “Tell your secretary everything's fine.”

“Beg your pardon?” Griselda questions just as a the secretary walks in.

“Oh, I'm sorry, General. I thought you were alone.”

“It's fine,” the general parrots.

I speak as the woman walks up. “She typed up those orders for you to authorize. But she left out the ones referring to the fuel dump at Greenwich.” I turn to the now silent woman. “Your name is Elizabeth. You go by Lizzie. Your birthday is September 17th. The general quietly pulled some strings, stationed your only son in Australia, as far from the war as possible. You're husband, however, she couldn't help with. I work with him tomorrow. Tell the general her dinner's just been canceled. Call just came in just now.”

Lizzie swallows before turning the the squat woman. “Your dinner was canceled.”

Griselda looks straight at me as she hands back the folder Lizzie handed to her. “You forgot the fuel dump. Thank you, Lizzie. That'll be all.”

The woman takes the folder and walks away. Bog waits until she leaves to speak.

“Fae, let's go. Come on.”

I'm almost there. “Bog, let me-.”

Bog grumbles, “what are we doing?”

“Please, don't knock her out again. Okay? Just...,” I sigh, holding up my hand to remind the man to stay back. I look at the short woman, becoming a little frustrated. “General, this isn't the first time we've had this conversation. That's because you- you're stubborn. I know where he gets it from.” I motion to Bog behind me. “You won't believe me when I tell you that Dr. Dawn Fae, my sister, was right. That the enemy can manipulate time. The invasion will fail. No matter how many bodies you throw at it. The only way to win this war is by finding this power source of the Mimic horde and killing it. And the only means of finding it is in that safe right there.”

I point to the safe revealed clear as day on a far wall. Griselda looks to it for a bit before setting her attention back on me.

“No matter how many times we have this conversation, you refuse to accept that the enemy breaks through to London tomorrow and we lose. We lose everything.” I finish, just shaking my head. Let this be a version where she listens.

Her beady eyes just stare at me, through me, but unlike that morning, I feel there's something there that she didn't see before. Something I've gained during all my resets. And I think that also convinces her as she throws the papers in her hands unto the desk and stands up.

“Let's say for one moment that I can't rationally explain your impressive parlor tricks.” A series of beeps on the safe lock has my heart leaping for joy. “Dr. Fae told me this device,” she pulls out the prototype transponder and walks to me, “requires a live Mimic to work. What use is it to you?”

I slowly ease out of my chair, having to think carefully on what to say. “That's my concern.”

“On the contrary,” she states. “According to you, this concerns the whole world.”

I step towards her feeling like a prey approaching a predator. “Well, what would you do if you believed everything I just told you?”

“I would locate this....”

“Omega,” I offer.

“... and bomb it out of existence.”

This is where Bog and his mother differs. “You're not mentally equipped to fight this thing. And you never will be.”

I know I kind of insulted his mother right in front of him, but he'll forgive me. Maybe. Especially since she just hands over the transponder. Gingerly, I take it.

“I like you, Fae,” she whispers. “Get yourself a comb and maybe I'll let you date my son.”

I feel a blush flush over my features as I silently turn and walk to a standing Bog, holding out our prize as I stand shoulder to shoulder with him. Well, shoulder to upper arm.

“What do we do now?” Bog asks.

I shrug. “I don't know. We've never gotten this far.”

Unsure of what to do, Bog thanks his mother and we rush out past the crawling halls and into the outside world. No one's stopped up thus far.

“That was easy,” I say.

Shouldn't say things like that because hiding behind cement dividers are armed soldiers. Someone must have seen us as we were walking out of the general's office.

“Down.” Someone yells. “Don't move. Stop right there.”

“Weapon,” someone else yells.

Bog shoots me.

Next time, we go down to the parking garage and hotwire a car, though being chased through the enclosed area and shot at doesn't help. I mess with the transponder until the needles come out. Geeze, that looks wicked. I look to Bog as he drives.

“What am I supposed to do with this?”

“Stick it in yer leg. Do it!”

Fuck. This is gonna be painful. I turn it around and breathe a few times, then I slam it against my thigh with a pained groan. At that moment, the world seems to slow down as my vision first goes black and all the outside noise fades away. I see a bright light, then a glitchy vision.

“Fae, what's happening? Talk ta me.” Bog's voice echos in the peculiar silence in my head.

“I feel it. It's taking me there.”

I see a fallen Eiffel Tower, water flooding all around it. The image glitches to another area. All the roads drowned in water. Something glows in the distance. The vision glitches closer.

“What do ye see?” His voice sounds so far away.

I can't believe what I'm seeing. “It's the Louvre.”

“Where? Where are ye?”

The vision changes again. “I'm inside now. It's flooded.” The image is changing again, though it's not glitchy this time. “Now I'm going down. I'm- I'm in a garage. A garage underneath the museum.”

“The Omega. Can ye see it?”

Just as he mentions it, I do see it just as it blooms open and the vision pulls me back up the museum, down the road, and at the Tower again. I pull out the needles with a gasp. A lot was taken out of me just then. I gasp for breath.

“It's in Paris,” I wheeze out, bracing myself against the dashboard.

Bog, somehow, drives easily despite the rain of bullets all around us. We go up a ramp, the road block rising up, but Bog hits the gas and we make it, destroying the front bumper. Doesn't matter. We still need to get out of London. I start to think we're in the home free, but a man in an exosuit stomps out and punches the side of the car as we zoom by sending us fishtailing a bit until Bog gains control of the car again. However, the suited man shoots out a burst, succeeding in hitting my leg. My grunt of pain pulls the attention of Bog.

I spot another suited man standing right in the middle of the road with his arms up. I yell at Bog, but it's too late. The man slams his fists on the car, pulling us to a complete stop. The air bags go off and knock Bog out. I try to reach out to him, but I'm starting to feel so cold and fade away.


	10. Losing It

I wake up to the sound of faint buzzing and distant murmurs. My eyes feel like lead, but I manage them open to take in my strange environment despite the extremely blurry vision. Where is the yelling asshole or Plum? Have I been knocked out? Oh god! I didn't miss the war, did I? I try to look around. The buzzing comes from the florescent lights and the murmurs come from beyond the double doors on the other side of the room. However, right to the side of me is what worries me the most. Two blood packets and an IV hang from a hospital stand. This can't be. I eye the length of the tubes and jolt fully awake when they stop at my right arm which has been bound to the cot. In fact, my whole form has been tied down. I pull and yank my arm as if that could get the blood away from me. A nurse walks over from somewhere to take out the needles and un-teather me from anything else I was hooked up to.

“What have you done?” My voice is so soft. Despite my brain being wide awake, my body is still trying to catch up. I look up at the woman, but all she does is look at me like I'm trash. “What have you done?” I repeat.

“You'll be fine.” That's all she says. And the way she said it. It was like she didn't want to be anywhere near me. “You just needed blood.”

I can't help but pause. It really happened. “You don't know what you've just done.”

She rips off the medical tape on my arm. “I'm not allowed to talk to you.”

“Then it's over,” I say to myself. I can feel it now. It's like I have a hole in my mental being. The power that I was just getting used to. Gone. There's no way I can stop the war now. The war hero! “Bog King,” I say to the nurse. “Is he alive? Bog King.” She ignores me as she continues patching me up, but I violently shift to catch her attention. “Please, just tell me that?” She finished with her task without another word. “Please?” I plead as she takes off her gloves.

“Sorry,” she says as she walks out of the double doors.

That's all I get? God fucking damn it. And I saw that armed soldier when the door opened. I'm being watched. I lay my head on the cot, thinking of what to do next. I haven't had to think like this in a while. My life was becoming a task of memorization to get the right path. Now I can't 'foresee' what my actions will cause anymore. I take one look around the room before I try to slip free of the binds. Step one: get free. Step two... I don't know.

I pull, tug, and yank on the restraints. I throw all my weight to one side hoping to break the links. I do a weird worm-like wiggle in a manic panic. I toss my weight again, but the bed wasn't bolted to the ground and I flip over barely missing the ground with my face. Nice hindsight, Mari. I lay my forehead on the ground in silent defeat when I hear something going on just outside the double doors. There's an alarm blaring and people yelling far in the distance. Then, the doors open. I glance over to see two military boots speed-walking to me and stop just before my cot. The soldier must have heard me flip over. I lay my head on the ground again with a silent curse.

“Ah was out of those things in three minutes flat, Fae. What's wrong with ye?” I turn to see Bog laying on the ground looking a bit worse for wear, but man, am I happy to see him.

“I thought you were dead,” I murmur, still not at one hundred percent vocally.

He just shakes his head. “Not yet.” He gets back to his feet and flips my cot right side up and bends down. “Sorry, Fae.” I hadn't noticed at first the knife in his hand. I freak out.

“Wait, wait. I'm out.” He pauses, giving me a look of horror. “I'm out. They gave me blood.” He looks over to the medical stand then back at me. I calm down a bit. “I lost the power. I feel it. I can't reset the day anymore.”

He doesn't do anything for a breath's moment. God, I feel like I've failed him. He, then, takes the knife to the restraints and helps me out of the cot. My legs feel weak, but we have to get out of here if the alarms have anything to do with Bog's disappearing act. He carries my weight as we walk side by side on our way out of this place. By the grace of whoever is looking down upon us, we made it far away. Bog wants to go back to the base. No one at Whitehall would expect us there. By the time we get there, it's night and the rain has begun, right on schedule. We shadow hop between two cargo containers on the edge of the base. A military vehicle is coming up on the road. I jump to Bog's side, pushing him back again the metal as we barely miss the headlights catching us as the vehicle continues on. What we need is a plan and we need it now because this is our last chance.

“We need to kill the Omega,” I say. “Before the invasion starts. That gives us less than three hours.”

Bog thinks for a moment. I think he, like me, doesn't like that we have such a limited time slot. “We need a dropship to get to Paris in time.”

I can't reset either, so knowing every movement of the Mimics from the beach won't get us far. “We'll need more soldiers, too.”

Bog raises a brow. “Now, who's crazy enough to follow us to Paris.”

Crazy people, huh? I tell Bog to follow me. I know exactly where to find two of them at this time. When we get close to the area, I tell Bog to shadow me and to stay out of sight. Then, I limp out of the darkness since the bullet wound hasn't fully healing in a day's time. Not long after, I hear an angry voice.

“Fae!” I take a few more steps. “Fae!”

“Guys,” I say, but Fang is ignoring me.

“We've been looking everywhere for you.”

“Guys, just listen.”

“Plum almost strung us up by our toes for losing track of you.”

I hold out a hand to him and Brutus. “Just listen. You're gonna want to hear this story. Now this is gonna sound ridiculous at first, but the longer I talk the more rational it's going to appear.”

Fang pauses for a moment. “Yea?” He says with a challenge.

}{

“She named the school I went to,” Fang says to his peers. “And then she tells me my second grade teacher was called Miss Polio.”

Brutus adds on to that. “Wouldn't let him go to the bathroom. Made him wet his pants.”

Someone laughs as Fang looks betrayed at Brutus. “Shut up. Look,” Fang continues pointing at me standing off to the side, “I'm telling you, she knows everything about all of us.”

Sunny rubs at his chin. “Bullshit.”

Brutus leans over to him. “Yea? She says your last name ain't really Day. Says 'Day' was your friend who died in combat on his first day.” Sunny stands up, astounded. “You took his place and sends the check to his family.”

Stuff stares at Sunny from her high point on the top bunk. “You slippery bitch.”

Fang continues. “Fae says she knows the enemy, too. That they're waiting for us on the beach and we all die. The whole invasion is a slaughter.”

Stuff shakes her head. “Well, this is great. Really good confidence boost for tomorrow. Thanks, Fae.”

Thang voices up. “But we can change it, right? I mean, there has to be something we can do. There has to be a way that we can win.”

I walk up to the group, having quietly enjoyed freaking everyone out with my personal knowledge of each of them. “There is a chance. It's a slim one, but it means coming with me, right now.”

Stuff speaks up. “Listen, pal. I don't really care what you think you know about us. We just met you.” She looks around her peers. “Come on. Why would we follow her into combat?”

I glance around the crestfallen group then to the shadows. I stand a little straighter. “I don't expect you to follow me. I expect you to follow him.” At that, Bog walk up and the group on the ground and lower bunks slowly get to their feet with looks of shock apparent.

Fang, fully standing up in his frog green bathrobe. “That's the Full Metal-.”

“G-Squad,” I interrupt. “This is Bog King. Otherwise known as-.”

“Yea, yea,” a deep voice says. I look to see Pare talking. “The Goblin of Verdun.”

Bog examines each one of them. My guess is that he's gauging their willingness and readiness to go into combat under his order. Each one kind of shifts when his eyes graze over them. He looks at me and softly nods. “Okay.”

Right away, he asks if any of them are a pilot. Thang jumps up and says that he knows the perfect one to wake up. Bog gives him permission to find the person. Everyone else Bog orders to get battle ready fifteen minutes ago. We all rush to the exosuit building. Bog, on the other hand, goes to where his suit is hooked up. We're careful not to attract too much attention from others still awake on the base. I make sure that everyone is as geared as I can possibly get them. And they're listening. Is it only because I brought Bog? Probably. I pay it no mind as I get myself ready. This will be the first time in a while that I have no idea what to expect so I don't know what I might need. This is also the appearance of a true fear of death, not for myself, but for the entire world if we all die on this mission. I feel like Atlas. Humanity rests on our shoulders.

It doesn't take long to find Bog and the pilot after we're all suited up and soon, we're flying above the base towards France. As we pass over the Cliffs of Dover, I check the time. By now, Plum will be waking up the soldiers for the coming battle. I'd love to see the look on her face when she sees that not just me, but the entire G-Squad is missing.

}{

“It's a new day, people. Destiny calls. The world only expects one thing from us: that we will win. Rest assured that the enemy will thank you for not giving one hundred percent today. Squad!” Plum calls. She enters the empty area and glances around then looks to the others. “Where's G-Squad?!”

}{

We fly over the toppled Eiffel Tower and the flooded streets on Paris. I watch the world pass us by as I stand behind the pilot. This is it. I step back and down to oversee the others. I hear Brutus talking.

“Right, okay. So this Omega controls time.” He's just trying to make sense of everything both Bog and I have told them during the flight there.

Fang gives a vicious snarl. “Let's just blow the New Age piece of dung back where it came from. And then we go home.”

“Right,” Brutus murmurs. “But it's guarded by an Alpha-.”

Pare butts in. “Just kill it, okay?”

Thang speaks up. “No! You heard what Fae said. Do not kill an Alpha. If we kill an Alpha, the Omega resets this whole day. We'll never even remember we had this conversation. They're gonna know we're coming.” He looks to me and Bog to see if he got it right. I nod, but Bog checks his magazine.

“So what am I supposed to do if one of those Alphas is about to kill me?” Sunny asks.

I slow my walking pace when I pass him. “You take a hit for the team.” I continue on to Bog. “When we're on the ground, there's not gonna be a lot of time before they know we're there. We're gonna need eyes up here.”

Bog stares down at me for a while before speaking. “Ah'm going in, Fae.” He activates the suit harness with resolve. I can't help but think that I can't keep him away from a good fight, even if it means his death. Together then.

“Thirty seconds til contact,” the pilot announces.

G-Squad turns on their flashlights and collectively exhales. I adjust my helmet as I focus on Bog across from me rather than the coming battle. Bog matches my gaze. Suddenly, the ship's hull explodes into a shower of sparks and debris. I'm knocked out of my suit's harness. I hear Fang call out for Brutus, but there's no answer. People are shouting in pain and worry. The ship is taking multiple fire balls from the Mimics. The ship gunner's mow down all that they can, but it's not helping ease the onslaught. Alarms ring throughout the ship. I'm tossed around like a rag doll as the pilot tries to maneuver around enemy fire. I manage to get to my feet in front of Bog.

“We gotta go,” Fang yells gruffly.

“You gotta drop,” I tell Bog. I turn to the others. “Drop! Drop!” The soldiers activate their harnesses and fall to the ground. “Drop.” I say to Bog who hasn't moved.

“Yer not hooked in,” he points out.

I want to reply, but that's a waste of time. Instead, I give an apologetic look and hit his emergency release. I watch him fall away from the ship. One of the gunner's is taken out, the impact of the sudden explosion nearly topples me off the ship's walkway. Now the ship is spiraling out of control and I seem to be the only one left. Before I can react, the ship hits the water sending a wave to push me against the hull. Then, the pressure is gone, but I'm also falling into deeper waters. The suit is too heavy to swim in. Oh god. I hit the bottom of the Seine river and quickly unhook myself from the suit. With what little air I have left, I push off from the ground and swim to the surface. Blissful air. I refill my lungs several times as I note where I should go. I pull myself over the stone railing, but I fall instantly. The bullet wound from earlier today is bleeding again. I take a moment to survey my surroundings. There's a column of smoke not too far away. I find a street pole and limp my way over, being careful not to make too much noise as I walk along the barren buildings. When I turn the corner, a graveyard of waterlogged and smashed cars lays before me. In the middle of it, the smoking dropship. I quietly inch my way over. There aren't a lot of cars near it, so when I reach the open area, I put the pole in my dominant hand, ready to defend myself. I take this trek relatively slow and as quietly as I am able with the road being flooded.

I hear a single beeping noise from the ship. I check the cabin, but there's nothing and no one. Am I the only one alive? This can't be.... Noise startles me. I turn, brandishing my pole. Behind me is Bog with a gun held up. He gives a sigh of relief to which I lower my makeshift weapon.

“What took you so long?” He asks me.

I smile at the attempted humor. “Any others?”

He takes me to where he's gathered everyone he's found. Just as we get back, Bog asks for a report. I take a moment to see who is left. I note a battered Thang, a solemn Fang, and a bruised Sunny. Everyone else didn't make it most likely. Damn. I listen to Fang.

“We're low on ammo. I've got one claymore. Sunny, you're out. Thang's only got half a magazine left and he can hardly move.”

Thang panics a little. “I thought you could see the future.”

“I haven't lived this day,” I say softly. “I don't know what's going to happen.”

Bog speaks up as he checks his own weapon and shoulders his sword and staff. “It doesn't matter. What matters is that we finish this.”

Sunny scoffs. “What. I mean, Thang can't even walk, we're three men down. Come on.”

Bog growls. “Look, we're running out of time. Collect yer ammo.” I think about what we can do. What do we have that can help.

Fang hisses. “There must be a thousand Mimics between us and that pyramid. So what we gonna do? Just walk up to the front door, is that it?”

Bog hisses back. “If we stay here, we die.”

“Yea? We'll never get through.” I think I know what might help.

“We could,” I say, looking back to the small group, then I motion my head to the remains of the dropship. “In that.”

Fang sighs. “That ship will never fly.”

“It doesn't need to fly. It just needs to get us across there,” I point towards the museum, “with speed. If the engines are still running, we can steer with the power levers.” I watch Bog ponder on this. “Fang, clear a path.” Bog nods and walks to the ship to see what still works. Fang starts moving the nearest cars out of the way while Thang and Sunny sit to the side, the former nursing his leg injury. Sunny eventually joins us on the ship to hook himself to the ship's guns. I help Bog with the ship's controls.

“Try it again now.”

“No, it's not reading,” I say after flipping a switch.

“Condition lever lowered,” he announces as he fiddles with the controls some more. “Master power on.”

I hear Thang attempt to walk and turn to look, but he falls flat on his face. Fang rushes to him. “Thang, we gotta go. Come on!” Fang pulls Thang on his knees just as an unearthly howl starts rising in the distance. The smaller man shakes his head.

“I'm not gonna be of any good in there, mate. Let me buy you some time.” I follow where Thang's gaze is pointed at. There's an intact fuel truck not far from us. I watch the men give an understanding look at one another, though Thang's is calmer while Fang's is upset.

I turn away from them, noting the console's readings. “The power's on.” Bog looks up from what's left of a manual. “This is gonna work.”

“Hey,” I hear Sunny call out. “Hey, come on, man. We gotta go.”

“Don't wait for us,” Fang yells back.

“Fang! Thang, come on!”

Bog turns back to Sunny. “We're good to go. Where are they?”

Sunny hesitantly finds the words. “They're not coming.”

I glance at Bog, there's a minute shadow of sorrow that darkens his face, but the mission is still at hand. I pull the switch to turn on the engines. The entire ship rumbles and groans slowly back to life. It has to warm up still.

}{

“Go, brother,” Thang says.

Fang grabs the man at the neck. “I'll see you in the next life.” He starts to walk away when he sees a wall of Mimics coming at them. “Oh for goblin's sake! Move over,” he says to Thang. “Move over!”

Thang guns down the fast approaching Mimics.

}{

Sunny yells out. “We gotta go. No, we gotta go now!”

Bog and I face the source of Sunny's worry. Bog turns to me. “They're coming, Fae.” I nod and push on the power levers. We're starting to move forward. I can still hear Thang's gun fire over the thunderous hum of the ship.

}{

“Come on!” Fang yells. “Come on, you bastards! Come on.”

“Reload,” says Thang's suit on repeat.

The men glance at the gun, then to each other. Thang nods and Fang huffs a bit. He slides his thumbs in the pins and waits for the opportune moment. With a battle cry, he pulls them. A large explosion, fueled by the gas truck, takes everything within meters out.


	11. The Omega

I hear the explosion, but wasn't prepared for how close we still were for us to feel the push. Now the Mimics are twice as angry as they follow the ship.

“Fire incoming,” Sunny yells as he opens fire.

I pay attention to the ship's controls as best I can, listening to Sunny yell at the Mimics. I let Bog take control as I take a gun I found left on the ship and shoot at the aliens coming in from the open back of the ship. Bog calls out for me. I turn and start shooting at those trying to attack from the front. Suddenly, Sunny goes silent. I turn to see him gone. I'm so sorry Dawn. I walk to the empty gun and try my best to operate it without a suit on. The aliens are never ending. A wave from the front climbs over the cabin and tear through the top. I aim the gun up there, but the recoil sends the gun out on the track attached to the underside of the wing. I'm dangling from gun, holding on for dear life while shooting down alien after alien. The ship goes flying for a moment. Bog must have been too focused on the aliens rather than trying to avoid obstacles. I get splashed with water when the ship comes back down. That's when I see a huge arch in our way. There's no way we can avoid that.

“Bog!” He faces me. “Punch it. Punch it!”

He yells as he gives the ship more power. He must have gotten hurt when the ship took an unexpected jump. The ship moves faster until it hits the arch. Then, the strength of the stone tears the wings right off and the momentum keeps us going forward. However, I'm dunked in and out of the water repeatedly, hanging on to the ship by a mere metal arm. The ship is falling apart bit by bit, jolting us forward then back again with every loss of it's parts. I can barely get enough air in my lungs when suddenly, I'm flying. I break through glass and hit slanted concrete only to bounce off and keeping rolling until there's flat ground. I'm truly stunned still for a moment. When I hear footsteps, I manage to collect myself enough to load up my shotgun as Bog collapses to his knees to prepare what he got from the ship, including several grenades. He looks up at me.

“We've been through worse,” I mention with a dark smile.

Bog huffs a quick laugh as I cock my gun and roll to my feet. Still limping, I rush to an opening where a staircase used to be, listening to the Mimics catch up and break through the glass. One lands in front of me. It gets two loads to the face. One comes flying up from my left. Shotgun! I jump into the hole and hit a broken slab of concrete on the way down when one of Bog's grenades explodes above us. I hit another slab and roll off onto another until I finally land a car. Bog falls next to me, but I see the debris from the grenade fall right for us. I roll on top of Bog and roll us both off the car as far away as I can manage. Not even a second later, the car is crushed.

I lift my head from his chest. He starts to say something,but I turn my head and focus on an open way glowing a faint blue.

“It's there,” I whisper. “The water right there.”

I get up and help him lean against a wall as we collect ourselves once again. We can hear the Mimics clawing the now closed ceiling opening whereas just on the other side of this wall is something crashing into cars. Bog takes a look. I listen and wait. He turns back, quietly gasping.

“That's an Alpha.”

I nod. My last chance to make sure he makes this out alive. “Okay, I'm gonna draw that thing away. You kill the Omega.”

Bog shakes his head. “No. Ya won't make it ten feet before that thing kills ya. Fae-.”

“I can do it.” I have to keep him safe.

“Take the grenades.” He tries to hand them to me.

“I can do it.” I have to....

He kneels before me. “Listen ta me. Neither one of us is getting out of here.”

I think about that for a moment. Considering everything, he's right. If I were to run out there as a distraction, I'd end up getting both of us killed and nothing resolved. I'm smaller and quicker, so I can get to the Omega before he could. The Mimics from up top are making headway through the concrete. We don't have time to argue. Hesitantly, I accept the grenades. I close my eyes to mentally prepare myself for this last leg of the journey and our lives. I feel his hand on my neck.

“Thank ya Fer getting me this far.” I open my eyes to see him looking so weary, tired, and ready to do the right thing. “Yer a good woman, Fae. I... I wish I had the chance to get to know you better.”

I stare at him and I remember every moment I've spent with this man since this whole thing began. Every reset was mainly spent around him. I've gotten to know him so well that I'd probably scare him with what I might know. I've seen him look like death, seen him dead, seen him look freshly clean, and everything in between. I've witnessed countless emotions pass over his face and I'd still like to see it all again. I've fallen in love with someone who probably only sees me as a means to an end, who doesn't know me as well as I know him. But this, what he just said, both elates me and depresses me. I'm glad to know that I might have has a chance with him, but now... we'll both die a gruesome death. Fate is so unkind. I can't help but glance down at his lips. Only one time did I get to taste them. If I had a final wish, it would be to feel him that close again.

He moves so fast, I don't compute for a moment. Then, I realize, he's kissing me and I don't want him to go. I grasp his arm in response and give a small moan, but in an instant, he's running around the corner. I want to cry, but the mission is important. I wait until the Alpha finds him and crashes through many cars to get to the intruder. When I think there's enough distance, I turn the corner and make my way as best I can to the Omega. I can't help but cast glances at Bog as he's running away. I can see the Alpha gain on him. I face the flooded parking garage and limp towards it. I'm just on the edge of the water when I hear the Alpha ferociously attack. I turn, not seeing Bog anywhere. My heart drops, but when the alien finds me, all I can see is red. Determined, I fall into the water. I don't fall far, however, because there's large pieces of glass and rebar blocking my way, but I crawl over and swim down. Not long after, I hear a splash. I take a quick glance and keep on swimming as fast as I can. I know I shouldn't, but I keep checking on the Alpha. When there's nothing else left in my way and the Omega sits right below me, I fiddle with the grenades, trying to get to the pins, but the light given off by the alien brain doesn't provide much light.

Immense pain fills my entire body. I let out a scream in the water and I let go of the grenades. I can see the water around go dark with my blood. The grenades fall into a crevice in the Omega. They're out of reach now. The movement of the Alpha turns me around. I look right at it's alien likeness and open my hand releasing the pins, giving the thing a dying smirk. I don't know if the alien fully understands what I've done, but it doesn't have long to ponder when the grenades go off, sending pulses in the water. The Alpha's life fire flickers as it curls in on itself and finally goes out like a light. I can imagine what's happening to the others.

The Omega blows up behind me, pushing me away with great force. Dust and debris cloud up the water as the huge explosion, this time from the alien brain dying, sends out a strong pulse. All the aliens should be dead by now. All I know is that I'm dying from a giant hole in my stomach and drowning because I can no longer move. The dust clouds settle around me as I look upwards. I think on my life and all I've experienced. There are moments that I wish I could change, but it's too late now. Besides, those mistakes have made me who I am and I am proud to die with what I've done. The only thing is that I wish I could have given my sister a proper goodbye and found a way to have kept Sunny alive for her. But she's safe and alive. I couldn't ask for more. I close my eyes in peace.

The water starts to feel warmer.

It's starting to burn.

I'm melting like I did when I killed the Alpha.

I gasp with what little lungs I have left.

 

 

 

I open my eyes to an environment I haven't seen in what feels like years. Quickly, I sit up. My officer's uniform crinkles under my movement and my hat rolls off my head to my lap. The helicopter's thrumming unsettles me and the person who opens the helicopter door isn't much help either. Gone are the people I've learned about within ample amounts of living the same day over and over. Wait... this is the helicopter I was on the morning I met with Bog's mother, before I was.... I'm awake before all of that happened. Outside the window is Whitehall. Amazed, I wait for the helicopter to land and hop out, taking in the fact that I'm outside Whitehall without fear of being hunted down and arrested.

I walk to the woman I vaguely remember greeting me last time. I notice that there are bells ringing gayfully in the distance and echoing all around me. The woman approaches me with a huge smile.

“Welcome to London, Major.” She introduces herself which she didn't do last time. “It's so good to have you. Have you heard the news?”

I don't answer as I look to the huge canvas with Bog's suited up image covering some scaffolding. She continues on, talking about how the alien scourge has just stopped right in it's tracks. I'm directed into Whitehall and lead to where everyone is gathered in front of a screen with the general making a speech to the public.

“Just before sunrise this morning, a large surge of energy was detected in Paris. We do not know exactly what this signifies, but the result appear to be a total collapse of the enemy's capacity to fight.” the soldier behind her and the press in front start clapping. “The Russian and Chinese troops are now moving across Europe without resistance. Tomorrow, we advance on the western front. We believe we are marching to claim a victory for ourselves, for our loved ones, for our countrymen, for the entire human race.”

I take a moment to soak in that... I did it. G-Squad, Bog, and I did it. Oh, Bog! He needs to know what truly happened. And Dawn too. I meet with the general when she comes back from giving the speech and make arrangements to visit Heathrow base. At first, the older woman was asking a lot of questions as to why, but I was able to shut her up when I mentioned that I wanted to see her son. But then she started asking questions as to why I want to see him specifically. I somehow dodged questions and gave vague answer long enough to get a ride to the base. By that afternoon, I came just in time for PT. I can hear Plum a mile away and her chorus of soldiers. Soon, they turn a corner and I can see all of them in their weird glory. I overhear the same conversation the squad had when I was with them. Honestly, I'm glad I'm not with them presently.

I get a ride to the practice building where I know Bog will be. The atmosphere in here is vastly different from when I came in as a forced Private. The soldiers stand at attention when I walk by. Never before did I feel worthy of my rank until after I helped save the world. I feel proud of my new-found confidence and abilities. Someone even turns off the mecha-Mimics, making it easier for me to walk out in the range to Bog, but before I do, I take a moment to watch him balancing and centering himself. I think it was the unexpected grace he holds that was the first step to falling in love with him.

As I approach, he turns his head to see me coming up. He has a questioning look on his face as he rights himself. When I get close enough, I remove my hat and he gets to his feet, towering over me once again without blood or wounds in sight.

“Yes?” He starts. “What do ya want?”

I can't help but chuckle at the difference of his words from when I was a Private to Major. I have to remember that this is the first time he's meeting me, however.

This is the start of my new life.


	12. Epilogue: The Aftermath

Bog is staring down his malt beer in the dark pub he's brought me to. That beer between his hands is life his lifeline judging by the way his grip is around the glass. I threw some heavy stuff out there very quickly, but that was only because he hadn't bothered to say a word since I opened my mouth and I just needed to get it all out there now that the world isn't about the end and I'm not having to train religiously.

Honestly, I'm still glad that he accepted my invitation to meet. I had no idea what to say to him when I saw his face again. I thought I lost him forever to that Alpha. By whatever luck I have, I'm glad the day reset again. I'm more than glad. I have... unwavering blissfulness, never-ending contentedness, unadulterated joy. And honestly, with everything I've witnessed and the time altering ability I had, I feel... important. But no one will ever know what I've done for them. Not like Bog did at Verdun. To the world, I will only be a Major working with the media.

I glance at my own amber liquid in it's frosted glass. I watch the ripples faintly echo the movement of my twitching fingers. I see this, but I'm thinking about my job. It's a storm inside my brain. Winds going faster than that of a hurricane's, stray thoughts are caught in the raging grip of the storm. The source is the knowledge that I do know what I need to do now, but it's fully making the choice that's causing the whirlwind. I know that I don't belong in media anymore. Any voice of Roland's is long gone. Instead, it's my own voice, my own wants, my own needs... with a bit of Bog's as an accent voice.

Speaking of, I glance back up at him, but he hasn't moved an inch since I stopped talking. I told him my first day on the mission and how I gained the ability. I talked about how I was using each day as a way to try to save him until he caught on to what was going on and told me to find him on the base before the war. I breezed through the training and the plan to get us off the beach in order to find the Omega. When I got the the part that we needed that terrifying tool Dawn made from his mother, I started to slow. This was where I lost the power and we had to do everything with a flair of improvisation. I recalled G-Squad and their help to get us to the art museum. I didn't bother mentioning who died because it doesn't matter now. They're alive. But I felt like Bog had to know that he almost died forever. I told him what he bravely did in order for me to have gone after the Omega. I left off with me killing the Omega and me waking up far before I met with his mother. In hindsight, maybe I shouldn't have told him he died.

My fingers twitch again. I need something to do. I've spent what might be a total of a year constantly active mentally and physically that now sitting idle is killing me. And it's not helping that he isn't saying anything. He's just sitting there, staring at his beer. In pure need to do something, I down the rest of my drink and slam the glass on the tabletop which, I'm only too glad to say, spooked him out of his reverie.

“Fae- hmm, Marianne,” he fumbles, still looking down after recovering for the scare. “Ah'm very pleased to see that yer mission was a success. Far more than ma own ever was.”

“I only succeeded because I had you to help me. If it wasn't for someone who already knew what was happening, I wouldn't have done anything to have saved the world. The Mimics would have found me on that beach still trying to save some of my squad and maybe you and the world would have been theirs once I was dealt with. This success was both of ours and we owe a good bit to Dawn's excellent studies and the respect some people have for you.”

He runs his large hand through that night black hair of his as he sits up straight and leans against the booth. I catch a glorious section of his stomach as he stretches. Then, I settle on those bright blue eyes once he comes back into a relaxed pose. Those baby blues will haunt me until I die. I've seen them vibrant with life and dull with death and everything in between. Oh, I will certainly be haunted for the rest of my life.

“Thanks, Marianne. That helps put things into perspective. So, yer first night away from the repeats and ya spend it with me? Reporting to me like we're still in a war?”

I'm taken aback and I'm sure it shows on my face. “I'm here telling you all this because I figured since you're the only other person I know who went through the repeats, you'd like some answers to questions I'm sure you'd have gotten once you heard wind that the alien race just up and died. I knew that you'd be out of your mind trying to figure out how that could have happened and maybe even drag my sister along just to get what you're looking for. Besides, you and I both know that this isn't fully finished. Another Omega could fall.” I let that sink in for a moment, taking a second to meet his eyes while sitting strong and calm while I actually want to run circles and beat up aliens again. Almost.

I continue. “You're the first person I'm talking to because I figured it would be important to keep you updated and maybe make a plan if more aliens show up. I don't know if they have communication between Omegas, but I don't want to sit around and twiddle my thumbs. I don't know about you, but I want to be prepared. Even if the aliens don't come in my lifetime, I think earth should be prepared. Somehow, I'm sure we'll find a way to tell the people what actually happened.”

He gives a soft chuckle. “Ah don't know how ya have some much drive for someone who just finished a war. When Ah was finished at Verdun, Ah passed out for three whole days. And from how much ya didn't want to say, I'm guessing ya spent longer in the repeats than Ah did. How are ya still conscious?”

I roll my eyes. “I'm going to ignore that question. Anyway, another reason I'm here is because....” I steel my nerves. “Because I respect you as a soldier and as a partner, but I'm also here because I fell in love with you while saving the world together.” I can't help but watch his eyes widen with surprise, so I quickly talk. “I know this isn't something you were prepared to hear and I know you had your own issue with your own repeats, but I'm not here to pull anything on you unwarranted.” I watch him relax a bit. I calmly continue. “I guess I'm mainly here to give you the run down as to what happened and to say good-bye if I have to.”

“Good-bye?”

I can't look at him anymore. I lower my eyes to the table, suddenly entranced with the grain of the wood. “It didn't start off that way, me loving you. Honestly, I was so confused why I was reliving the day that I wasn't sure what I was feeling in general. But constantly working around you, with you, I began to feel again. I could feel what it meant it be human and it made me realize what I was really protecting. I thought love of any kind other than for family was lost to me. But the Alpha dying above me opened a can of worms I wasn't prepared for. At first, I held respect for you for having gone through your own repeat by yourself and that of all the things you could have done, it was train me. Then, I had pleasure in being your partner against the aliens. Let me tell you, we worked beautifully together. The carnage we paved through is legendary to me. Then, the student had to surpass the teacher and I felt good knowing that you looked to me for answers and I was helping you because I wanted to aside from needing to. But....”

I take a deep breath and lock onto his eyes as I recall each and every death I had to witness. “I realized that I loved you and it hurt me to see you in pain, to see you die slowly or quickly, seeing you in pieces or whole. It eventually got to the point that every time I lost you, I lost myself. Every time you died, I made sure I died shortly after and I wouldn't fight the death. Then, I would wake up and begin anew knowing that I would have to start all over again with you, but I kept doing it. I found myself needing to be by you, to hear you, to feel you. This is the first time I have felt real love like that and the entire time while working with you that it was once sided. I have a year's worth of moments with you and here you are with only hours worth of knowledge of me.”

“I'm here because I had to tell you the truth about the aliens and about my feelings. If I kept it hidden, it would have torn me apart and I didn't want you to think it's your fault. I know you have relationship issues. That was briefly brought up only once, just so you know, but I know and I haven't forgotten. Bog, I deeply respect you and even if you don't want to hear it, I love you. I love you far more than I thought was physically possible and I used to believe in some very romantic bullshit. The funny thing is, I'm not here looking to start a relationship with you. It would make me happy if we could work side by side again at least. Hell, just to see you walk by would be enough for me. But if this is too much for you, then I am fully prepared to say good-bye.”

Silence falls between us. His eyes search through mine, looking for what, I don't know. Then, he turns his head away from me as if he was thinking. His brows furrow, his jaw set firm. I could swear I saw the gears turning in his mind. As the silence drags on, I make up my mind. I pull out some money for my beer and a tip and slide out of the booth without a word, walking away with a stiff back. I ignored my name being called.

Outside the pub, the weather got far colder than I was prepared for. I pull up my uniform collar to help protect me from the bitter breeze, uncaring of the uniform just for a moment. With that, I walk to my hotel that I was given by the General herself when she heard I was spending time with her son. She seemed uncharacteristically happy with that news from what I'm used to seeing from her. The hotel room was very nice, but I didn't care for most things other than the bed. When I do get to the room, I doubly make sure I put the “Do not disturb” sign outside and manage to strip to my undershirt and underwear before I crawl under the covers and pass out. The last thing I feel before succumbing to the darkness is bitterness and most of all, loneliness. If I wasn't so tired, I'd've cried myself to sleep.

All I remember is darkness. I don't have any dreams. Just blissful nothiningness. No asshole kicking me awake, nothing is killing me, no glitchy misdirecting dreams. I remain in a state of simply being. I am healing myself. I know that I have to move on and make my own plans of continuing life on this planet. Since Dawn was my sister before she was Bog's helper, I can always ask for her help. I also didn't mind working with the G-squad. If I can find a way to work with them, that'd be the greatest thing ever. Maybe I can use the media to my advantage when I'm ready to tell the world about the truth of the Mimics. Maybe.

I'm waking up now. The nothingness isn't as dark as before. There are voices, too. I follow the sounds through the dark until all I see is a dark pink and the voices are clear as day. I open my eyes to see Dawn in all her glowing wonder marred only by a worried twist to her face. I reach up to her, wanting to call her name, but my voice is stuck in my throat. Dawn doesn't miss a thing, however.

“Oh, Marianne, I'm so glad you're alright. We were all so worried. How are you feeling? Tired, hungry, sick, sluggish, upbeat, need to use the bathroom?”

“Calm down, young Fae. She'll be alright, just don't crowd her. Give her some time to breathe.”

I look at the new voice and I was surely shocked to see Griselda King there. Out of uniform, no less. I tried to speak, but there was a desert in place of my mouth. I look to Dawn and motion me drinking out of a glass. Her eyes sparkled when she understood. She hopped to her feet and flew to the kitchenette. I glance at Griselda again. Memories of her being the ultimate bitch seem so far away now, especially with her wide smile that fits better than her serious face. It's actually kind of unsettling how she's looking back at me.

“So,” she begins, her near black eyes somehow giving the feeling of looking at a night sky that's happily staring back. “You and my son know each other. How?”

I want to say that we worked together for a bit, but all that came out was a croak.

“Oh, right. You've been asleep for about a week. I was just about to call for an ambulance, but Dawn was stubbornly sure that you would come around. If it wasn't for Bog backing her up, I might have ignored her anyway.”

“No you wouldn't have,” Dawn says as she glides in with a large glass of ice water, condensation already forming around the surface.

She hands it to me and I quickly bring it to my lips. I deeply relish in the shock of cold touching my skin, giving relief to a discomfort I haven't noticed yet. The rolling comfort spreads as the water fills my mouth and I swallow. Oh, heavens I feel so alive now. I didn't realize how sickly I felt only moments before. I feel so good, I can only gasp as soon as I could. The sudden alertness rolls through my head before translating itself into a shiver that rushes down my body. Then, at the height of it all, I float down with a sigh.

“Feel better?” Dawn asks with a smile.

I smile, “Yes, I do. How were you able to get in?”

“I asked the sweet housekeeper if she could let me in with the skeleton card key. I acted as if you were going through the Roland situation again, so she let me in. Boggy came when I called and because it has something to do with a woman, Griselda eventually found out and invited herself in.”

“I like to believe I have a right to help my son be happy.”

“Ms. King, while I would usually say that not every woman would be perfect for Boggy, this time I have to agree, but now is not the time to be matchmaking.”

“Bah,” Griselda lightly says as she relaxes in her chair.

Dawn cocks her hip. “No, ma'am. We are giving Marianne her privacy to refresh herself.” She pulls the older woman up and guides her out of the room.

I try to settle my mind and make sense to what happened. Bog mentioned how he fell asleep for a few days, but I became comatose for almost seven? Must be a side effect of suffering through the alien ability. Either way, I have to get up. I whip the blankets off and roll out of the bed, dedicated to get to my feet and force myself to get up even if I don't want to. Thankfully, I manage to find my feet, but my balance is terrible. I fall back on the bed with a spinning head. I wait for the spell to pass. I can hear my sister and Bog's mother softly talk in the living area, but it's just a gentle murmur to me. I push myself up and stay up. Verdict, I'm weak and sleep is still like lead in my body. I need food first and foremost, except for a visit to the bathroom.

After reliving myself, I take a shower and thoroughly enjoy myself during it. I haven't had time for a really good cleanse and after everything that's happened to me, I feel like it's all coming off. I feel so much better, though, I can swear I still feel the sand from that beach and the weight of the exosuit around me and for some reason, I feel like Bog's blade is mere inches from my hand. I have to look down to remind myself that I'm not on the beach, that I'm literally naked and alone. I get out and quickly dry off, catching a glimpse of my colorful back. Seeing it reminds me of Bog's dragonfly wings. I wish I could see it again. The artistry was beautiful and it fit him so well. Feeling my throat tighten and tears threatening to form, I grit my teeth and go back to the bedroom. I redress, doing my best to push down my rising want to be near Bog.

But he came.

No, he only came because Dawn called him.

With a heavy heart and a deep sigh, I lose that moment of hope. Instead, I walk out to the living area to see Dawn and Griselda animatedly talking on the sofa. Heavens, I missed my sister. I'm still unnerved about Griselda being here. I almost interrupt them when I see another body in the arm chair on the other side of the area. Every mile of him is passed out and looking very uncomfortable, but very relaxed nonetheless. I've never seen him like this at all during my repeat, especially not in civilian clothes. Even during our meeting at the pub, he was still in his training outfit with the black jacket. Not to even think that he wasn't absolutely delicious in it, but being able to better see what's protective padding versus what's actually there. I glance down and away to avoid staring and to hide my possibly reddening cheeks just from the sudden onslaught of dark bedroom thoughts of the man. I haven't had a chance to think like that when the focus was the war. I turn to walk back into the bedroom, but Griselda calls out for me.

I tense my shoulders before I could stop myself. I quickly relax and turn on my heel with a smile.

“Oh, relax your throax. I'm not judging you. If anything, I'm happy to see someone so taken by my son.”

My reddening rushes back and anything I was going to say dissolves into nothing. I look to make sure Bog is still asleep.

Griselda chuckles. “Don't worry about him. He's been here basically since Dawn called. Wouldn't sleep. He lost that battle a few hours ago. I'm pretty sure he'll be out for at least two more hours.”

Despite the intentionally calming words, I still worry he's faking it. I take another look, but he still seems unaffected. Maybe I am in the clear.

“Dawn tells me that you have been working with Bog about the aliens. I thought you were in the U.S. media.”

I glance at Dawn, who is now behind the general's head giving me an apologetic look. “I... am, ma'am. Since Dawn is my sister, I am very interested in knowing her whereabouts and what she's been up to. She told me about the neat theories about the aliens and I happen to believe her. I think that there's something about the aliens that we don't understand and the fact that you shunned my sister for thinking so out-of-the-box when she has been trying her hardest to save all of humanity is beyond me. If it wasn't for her, Bog and I wouldn't have been able to figure out what she's studied so hard for. Honestly, I think they could come back and if they do, Dawn should be the first person you ask for advice and then go to Bog to set up the defense and attack.”

“You seem like you more than learned about the Mimics, but experienced this firsthand,” Griselda softly, but clearly states.

I choke on my tongue. “I'm that passionate stopping the alien scourge.”

“Luck for us, they just collapsed the other day.”

“Lucky,” I mirror with a hint of poison only because she was a pain to deal with when trying to get Dawn's device.

The older woman sighs. “Girls, I'm not an idiot. I noticed something different about my boy after Verdun. He witnessed something that he couldn't talk to me about. I'm glad that, despite my reaction towards you, Dawn, about your experiments, he clung to you like a sister I couldn't give him. And then this morning when I met with you, Marianne... there was something in your eyes and the way you held yourself that reminded me so much of that hardened, faraway look Bog had. And considering the passion with the Mimics, I'm guessing it has something to do with them.”

Dawn held her hands at her mouth, visibly as shocked as I was, only, I was frozen to the spot.

“And then,” Griselda continues, “I saw how you were looking at him just now. I can't voice to you how overjoyed I am that you love him. It's that obvious. I don't know when it happened or how it did, but you fell hard. I hope Bog can get some sense before he loses you. Anyways, I should get going. I'm sure the three of you want to discuss something that can't be talked about with me around.”

“Thanks, mum,” a deep, raspy voice murmurs from the other side of the room as the older woman gets up from the sofa.

Knowing he heard that last bit, the blood forces itself back into my face. Dawn jumps up and glides to Griselda's side.

“I'll walk you out, ma'am.”

I mentally scream at Dawn, demanding that she not leave me alone, but there she goes with Bog's mother...

leaving me alone...

with Bog...

who is stretching that beautiful form of his.

Oh, heavens help me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed. If you want to see more of my stuff here are some links:  
> Tumblr- https://www.tumblr.com/blog/miss-gelfing  
> FanFiction- https://www.fanfiction.net/u/2125466/London-Bai  
> Wordpress- https://londonbai.wordpress.com/  
> And support me on my new Patreon- https://www.patreon.com/BlisG


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